The Awakening
by bioncafemme
Summary: When Lyna Mahariel dies in the Final Battle, Alistair finds himself alone, a disinherited bastard Prince whose life is about to change forever. Follow Alistair as he embarks upon a tale of adventure and finds love along the way. Alistair/Sidona Rated M
1. Chapter 1

**The Awakening**

**A Dragon Age Fanfiction**

**By Bionca Femme**

**Disclaimer**_: I own nothing_

**Prelude: The Final Battle**

* * *

"Stand down!" Lyna growled more forcefully.

"Lyna, let me do this! You have Zevran to think of and the Grey Wardens need you!" Alistair pushed. He could tell that he was about to get his block knocked off. But something in him would just not let this go. "Please!" he begged.

She shook her head. "Zevran knew that this was going to happen, Alistair. It-," she choked back tears.

"We were prepared. You need to stay alive, rebuild the Wardens, build Duncan's memorial, get to know those little nieces and nephews of yours and that gold digging harridan of a sister," she took a step towards him and pulled him into a tight hug. "Let me do this for you, Lethallin. My brother. My friend," she kissed him on the cheek and then stepped away from him.

"Lyn-," he was suddenly pushed hard by her, and he flew backwards landing on his backside. The next thing he knew, the figure of the Dalish woman he had come to love as a sister, ran headlong at the Archedemon. She grabbed a silverite Great Sword on the way and once she reached the beast, she dropped to one knee. Alistair watched in awe and horror as she thrust the blade upwards, propelled by her own momentum, she cut the beast from neck to gullet.

It screamed, by the Maker, he had never heard such a sound! It reared up on its hind legs and opened its mouth and shrieked. It thrashed and narrowly missed Lyna as it collapsed back down upon the stone roof of Fort Drakon. Alistair scrambled to his feet and was about to rush forward and stop her from striking the final blow when he was restrained by Wynne. "No, Alistair!" she shouted.

"Let me go to her!" he cried out desperately and wrenched his arm from Wynne's grasp. All too late however, because as he started forward again, Lyna's blade slammed into the base of the dragon's skull, her war cry piercing the night in triumph. She struggled with the blade as blinding light burst forth, causing her companions to shield their eyes. One more hard tug on the blade and the head was sheered from the long scaly neck and the force of the blast as the Archedemon's soul was released threw Alistair back. It was over and he had failed. Lyna Mahariel lay dead.

* * *

**A/N: So here is the Prelude of the new fic. Melismo is editing Chapter 1 as we speak. So I will update with that when I receive it. I might not update with this as often as you're used to, but it should pick up once I've finished "The Tainted Knight". Thank you to Melismo for undertaking this and for being such a great beta. **


	2. Chapter 2

**The Awakening**

**A Dragon Age Fanfiction**

**By Bionca Femme**

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing. =(

**Chapter 1:** The Beginning

* * *

There is something terribly fitting about their chosen place to drown their sorrows. A normal person might believe a brothel an awful place to mourn a fallen friend, but none of Lyna's former companions could think of a better place. They believed that had she been alive, Lyna would have chosen it to celebrate their victory.

Oghren, Zevran, Alistair, and Leliana sat around a table, on the opposite side of the common room from Isabella, who even now was challenging a tall dark haired fellow to a game of 'wicked grace'. Wynne understandably passed on this particular outing, and Shale not really having any use for strong spirits or other pleasures to be had, stayed behind as well. Sten had already left days before shipbound for the comforts of his beloved Seheron, the call of his homeland too strong to ignore.

The group was already a few drinks into the night, Oghren a little further than the rest, having started earlier that afternoon. Alistair had thrown himself into the activity with uncharacteristic enthusiasm. Or perhaps it should have been expected, given how envious he had always been that Oghren had always had the uncanny ability to stay continuously drunk and still manage to lift his ax at the same time. But now that there was no blight to stop, no Archdemon to slay, and his heart was feeling as heavy as an Alpha Ogre, Alistair had absolutely no reason to stay sober.

"H-Hey-y-y!" he laughed. "Do you know what I..." hiccup "...what I just remembered?"

"Noo, what?" Leliana slurred a reply back with comically widened blue eyes.

"The first time we were here," he gestured exaggeratedly at the room around them. "Lyna went up to that door there, the one with those mercenaries behind it and we had no idea..." he said.

"And she knocked and they asked, 'what's the password?'," she added with a giggle.

"Right, right! And she says..." they both look at each other with wide grins.

"Er...Sausage!" they both said in unison and launched into a fit of laughter.

"Heh, sausage. What kind of stupid password is that?" Oghren commented gruffly, which only caused the two to laugh all the harder.

"Apparently not the correct one, my friend," Zevran chuckled and patted the dwarf on the back.

"No, it wasn't," agreed Alistair and the laughter died down and they all end up staring into their drinks contemplatively.

"Maker," Alistair's voice was forlorn. "I should have stopped her. I could have stopped her! Why didn't I stop her?" he slammed his fist down on the table making Leliana jump.

"Alistair," Zevran laid a hand on the bastard prince's forearm. "You could not have stopped her, no one could ever stop her from getting something that she wanted, you know this. She left me behind because she knew I would try. We both..." he pulled away and took a long pull from his tankard of ale. "We both lived full lives. You...well, pardon my saying so but...you haven't even had a chance to bed a woman yet. Virginity is a terrible thing to take to your grave, my friend."

The absurdity of that statement had Alistair laughing again and then the laughter degenerated quickly into sobs. "Why are you even _trying_ consoling me? I should be the one consoling you!" he pointed out as Zevran slid onto the bench next to him and put an arm around Alistair's broad shoulders.

"Because for me, it is not really goodbye, Alistair. I shall see her again one day," his tone was sincere.

"You really believe that?" Alistair asked.

"Yes, and why not? Who is to say what truly happens when we die? I just have a feeling that Lyna is not yet done with me. We have unfinished business, she and I. In another life perhaps, but still...she wanted us to live, yes? And live I shall, everyday is for her, I honor her in this way...and so should you," Zevran pointed out. "That does not mean that I have not mourned or do not mourn her, but I shall also remember everything that was wonderful about her, and celebrate her life."

"So you're saying that I should live and be happy? For her?" Alistair asked as he wiped the tears from his face with the backs of his hands.

"Exactly!" Zevran nodded. "I think as a start, you should get rid of that pesky innocence!"

"My what?" Alistair's face screwed up in confusion. "I'm not innocent. Why does everyone always say that? I've killed countless dark spawn-," he started to say.

Leliana giggled. "He means you should sleep with someone," she said, interrupting his rant before it really had a chance to get going.

"Oh," Alistair's ears turned a deep red.

"Aye! Get you some of that, lad!" Oghren chuckled. "Forge the moaning statue, roll your oats, buck that forbidden horse, tap the midnight still, if you will!"

Alistair gave Oghren the goggle eyed drunken gawk of incredulity, "You're just making those up as you go along, aren't you?"

"Nope, heh. Been savin' em," he laughed and winked at the former Templar. "What about it, Sister? Wanna teach the Templar here how to properly go about 'greasin the pink bronto'?"

Leliana's face colored. "Actually, as thrilling as I know it would be," she poked Alistair in the side affectionately. "I am already seeing someone."

"What?" the three men aked at the same time.

She smiled sheepishly. "I have been asked to visit with Bann Teagan at his estate. If I am reading the signs correctly I would guess that he is quite interested in me. Being that he's practically your Uncle, Alistair...that would make it a bit...awkward."

"Auntie Leliana," he snickered. "Maker's breath, that does sound dreadful!"

"Well then, that settles it!" Zevran slapped his hands down on the table and pushed himself up, then he grabbed Alistair by the bicep and pulled him up as well.

"Settles what? Hey...Ow!" he protested. "Where are we going?"

Zevran dragged the hapless Alistair with him to the establishments proprietor. "Sanga, my sweet. Can you believe that this young, strapping, handsome, brute has never before partaken in the pleasures of a woman's charms?" he gestured to Alistair who at once looked very much like a halla caught in lamp lights.

"Never?" she looked Alistair over. "Honey, where've you been all our lives, eh?"

Alistair chuckled nervously and ran his hand through his hair, "Uh...the Chantry?" he gulped loudly.

"You poor man!" she poked her lower lip out in an exaggerated pout and took him by the arm. "Well, you just let Sanga fix you right up, love!" she looked past him to Zevran. "I assume you'll be footing the bill?"

"Yes, yes!" Zevran waved them away. "Just make sure the young man is thoroughly educated, my dear."

"Oh, don't worry about that, lovey!" she giggled. "Now, handsome. Those fine men over there," she gestured to the bouncers, "are there to make sure you don't get too rough. Not that I think they'll be needed, mind you. No, you look as tame as a kitten, you do," she teased. "What would you like, love? The Men or the women?"

"Women?" Alistair said after a moment. He was a little shocked at the question. Did he look like he fancied men? He'd heard of such a thing...certainly. Mostly from Zevran, of course. And then there was Master Wade and Herren...

Alistair watched as the women were lined up in front of him. He couldn't help himself, he simply stared. After a moment he felt Sanga give him a swat on his backside making him jump with a yelp and the women before him giggled. "Be careful with this one, girls, he's fresh from the chantry and a little shy," she winked.

Alistair cringed, expecting the women to shrink back from him, but to his surprise they all cooed and giggled. Some stepped forward and circled him, reaching out and feeling the muscles of his arms and making approving little noises. Soon his face broke out into a goofy smile, obviously enjoying the attention.

"Now, now ladies...give the poor boy some room. He's to get himself a proper education and he has a patron. I imagine a few of you will get your turn. I believe he's a Grey Warden after all, there's more than one legend about their stamina, am I right girls?" she grinned.

"What? Really? Legends?" Alistair choked out. Not only was he going to do this once with one of these women, he was expected to...with a few of them. "Not all at once, right?" he asked fearfully.

That had several of the women giggling again. One of them, a tall leggy brunette with green eyes and full lips stepped forward. "I'll take him first...that is...if he finds me agreeable," she stepped into his space and leaned into him, her hands smoothing up over his well muscled chest appreciatively.

"Yes," Alistair squeaked and then cleared his throat and then replied with a deeper, "I mean, yes of course. I approve!"

Her face broke out into a smile that had Alistair's heart thumping hard in his chest. To say he was nervous was putting it lightly. She led him away as the other girls made disappointed noises and called dibs on the next session with him.

Four women and many hours later Zevran finally had to put a stop to it, much to the ladies' great dismay, he dragged a tired Alistair back to the inn room they were sharing together. The room had two beds, which Alistair insisted upon, knowing the elf as he did. Zevran had teased him mercilessly but was not unhappy with the arrangement. He crawled into his bed just as Alistair was pulling off his shirt. "Braska!" Zevran whistled.

"Huh? What?" Alistair asked in confusion.

"You are completely covered in love bites and scratch marks!" Zevran exclaimed with pride in his voice. "I wish Lyna were here to see this!"

"Maker!" Alistair shook his head and pinked in embarrassment. "She'd never let me live it down!"

"Four!" Zevran laughed heartily. "I can't believe you had four women tonight, my friend. You my dear Alistair, are a freak of nature! I salute you!" the elf held his hand up to his forehead in a salute often given by the Denerim City guards.

"Dark Spawn blood," Alistair grunted. "Apparently in addition to shortening your life span it also enables me to...uh...recover quickly," Zevran couldn't see it in the dim firelight of the room but Alistair was blushing from head to toe.

"That explains...alot actually," Zevran said thoughtfully.

"Andraste's arse! I don't want to hear about you and Lyna. Don't tell me! Maker's breath, hearing the two of you caterwauling in camp was bad enough!" he dived into his bed and pulled his pillows over his head. "I'm not listening, la-la-la-la-la!"

Zevran chuckled to himself. Alistair was still very much a boy in many respects. So naïve and yet, Zevran found himself envying the young man's boyishness. It was endearing and was something that he himself had not possessed since the Crows bought him at the tender age of seven. "So now that you are a man, tell me what you intend to do with the rest of your life."

Alistair slowly took the pillow from his head, "I have to go to Highever...at least for a few weeks. Then I'm going down to Amaranthine, I suppose. Anora called in in the Orlesian Wardens to rebuild the order. They arrived a week ago, or so I was told."

Zevrans eyebrows knitted together, "She didn't ask you to take Command?"

Alistair let out a bitter laugh, "She did, but as Lyna once said, she wouldn't trust me to lead us to lunch. So I turned it down. I don't mind though. I never wanted to lead anything. I like to follow, following is good," he rambled.

"You did a wonderful job leading the charge at the Final battle, Alistair," the elf pointed out.

"Maybe," he conceded. "Still if I have the choice...I'd rather not. Having men's lives in my hands doesn't leave me with a good feeling," he said.

"Everyday you fight dark spawn, you have lives in your hands. You can't run away from that," Zevran replied and then rolled over. "Good night, Alistair."

A moment of silence and then, "Night."

It was some time before sleep claimed Alistair. Thoughts of the women he had bedded, the conversation he'd had with Zevran and then finally as always, the first and last person on his mind each and everyday since the final battle...Lyna, kept him awake for another hour or so before he finally drifted off into the fade.

* * *

The absence of the Archdemon made way for other dreams for Alistair in the fade. Though since he had been trapped in a nightmare with his sister/demon for almost two hours that once by the Sloth demon, he was far more conscious of his nightly imaginings. The dream he was currently in however, didn't feel at all like that, nor like any other regular dream he'd had before. It was like he was propelled from where he was to somewhere else in Ferelden.

_He stood before a sprawling fortress, and at his side stood Zevran. "So, that is the Vigil? I did not realize it would be quite so large, nor quite so...filthy," the elf made a face that had Alistair chuckling._

"_It does look rather a bit ruined, doesn't it?" he asked. He took in the sight of walls that looked like they were crumbling from the inside out. At first glance, he could see nothing terribly wrong. And then slowly he started to realize that there was an absence of people. Men on the ramparts, a welcoming __party at the gate, sentries, noise from within, there was none of that. "Something...doesn't seem quite right here."_

_A scream followed his statement and from the gates a man dashed towards them. "Help me! Help! Someone! They're after me!" he tripped and went down. Alistair started rushing towards him to help him up when suddenly into view a Genlock charged towards the man, battle ax raised._

"_Dark Spawn!" roared Alistair and he drew his shield and sword. Zevran was quick to respond and with the three of them they managed to defeat the monster and the Ogre that followed._

"_It's_ _you isn't it?" the man fell to his knees before Alistair. "Prince Alistair the Brave! You've come to save us!"_

"_What? Maker's breath! Stop that, man! I'm not a Prince, I'm not in line for the throne any longer, get up!" he pulled the man up gently as the poor soul looked as if he was about to waste away right before Alistair's eyes._

"_Yes, Sir," the man said forlornly, clearly not happy with not being able to call Alistair a prince. "My Lord, the Warden-Commander...she needs help!"_

"_The Commander? Where is she? What is going on?" Alistair grasped the mans upper arms._

"_They ambushed us, from the inside, My Lord! So much death! Surprised us in our sleep, they did!" the man sobbed. "If it hadn't been for the Commander, we'd all be dead! She and Gustav are the only Wardens left! They're holding them off, but they're getting tired. We've lost half the __soldiers__. I was sent to run to Amaranthine for help," he finally slumped in Alistair's grasp, probably from exhaustion._

"_We need to get in there," Alistair said to Zevran after he laid the man down in a grassy patch alongside the road._

Alistair awoke with a start and immediately threw himself out of bed. He hastily pulled on some clothes and picked up one of Zevran's shoes and chucked it at the elf's head.

"Braska!" the elf swore in response after the shoe collided with his forehead. He sat straight up, his hand clutching his abused head. "Alistair, tell me that you did not just throw a shoe at me. Honestly...even for a disgraced royal bastard, that is just so rude," he chided.

"Never mind all that, look," he tossed Zevran a shirt. "Get dressed, we need to get down to Amaranthine."

"Amaranthine?" Zevran regarded Alistair as though he was a few nugs short of a dwarven stew. "Alistair, are you still drunk?"

"No, I'm not. Look, lets just say that this is another one of those crazy Grey Warden feelings, alright?" Alistair said with a hint of desperation. "If we leave now we can make it in just a few hours, just get dressed!"

"Alright, fine!" Zevran slipped the shirt on over his head and got out of bed.

* * *

"Steady men!" Sidona bellowed and watched as the dark spawn attempted break through the outer barricades. "Gustav!" she shouted to her fellow Warden at the other end of the battlement. "Man the ballista! Aim it at any dark spawn bastard that comes through that gate!"

"Yes, Commander!" he shouted back and hastily did as she commanded.

All around Sidona Andras men and women stood at the ready atop the inner walls of Vigils Keep. Out of the dozen Wardens she had been given to garrison the Vigil, only three remained...and one of those, Kristoff, was still afield. She scanned her soldiers, many of them wounded and rapidly losing strength. One man in particular caught her eye. "You! What is your name?" she pointed at the man.

The man jumped, apparently surprised that he had been noticed at all. He was painfully thin and his skin weathered. Arl Howe had not taken care of his servants while he was in power, or at least had not paid them well enough that they were able to feed themselves.

"E-Edmond, my Lady" he stammered nervously.

She offered a comforting smile which seemed to do the trick as he relaxed marginally. "Edmond," she reached out to him and drew him close to her. "I am going to need you to do something very important, when the dark spawn break through, I need you to sneak quietly out behind their line. When you get outside the outer walls I need you to make haste to the city of Amaranthine and get help. Can you do that, Edmond?"

"Y-yes, my Lady!" Edmond nodded and she released him.

"Good man!" she turned to the S_eneschal_ at her side. "Varel, should I and Gustav perish tonight, I need you to get word to Weisshaupt about what's happened here," she ordered. "Its imperative that the First Warden know that the dark spawn have taken the Vigil, and have not retreated to the deep roads."

"As you wish, Commander," Varel looked severely worried. At the moment she didn't blame him. But he looked that way most of the time, so divining his true thoughts was near impossible for her.

"Whatever happens Varel, it has been an honor having you as my Senechal. The Queen chose well. You are a good man," she reached out and squeezed his shoulder. He locked eyes with her for a moment and unspoken words of loyalty and trust passed between them.

"It has been my pleasure Commander," he placed his hand over hers for a moment and then a crash from below broke them from their exchange.

"Dworkin! The grenades!" she shouted.

"Aye Commander!" the blonde dwarf grabbed two of his lyrium bombs from the basket at his feet, "Take that beasties!" he laughed wildly, then lobbed the incendiaries into the approaching band of creatures below. They exploded on impact, sending up a spray of earth, black blood and limbs.

"Gustav, take out the Emissary!" she shouted.

"Aye, Commander!" Gustav fired the ballista into the Genlock Emissary that was directing the rest of the dark spawn below. Still they advanced and when they were far enough away from the outer walls she grabbed Edmond by the front of his leather armor, "Go now! For the Maker's sake and your own, do not be seen!" she pushed him towards the door behind them that led down a winding staircase and to the courtyard below. "Go!"

Edmond stumbled briefly and then made it to the door, flinging it open and disappearing into the darkness within.

* * *

The streets of Denerim were awake still, soldiers patrolled the streets, newly homeless citizens huddled against the walls of houses lined with scaffolding, some still awake and begging for silvers. Some huddled down in cloaks and trying to catch what little sleep they could before day break. The horde had certainly done none of these people any favors when they'd swept through Denerim. For the first time in centuries, the Alienage and the city proper could not be distinguished from each other. For Alistair and Zevran...it seemed a fitting sight.

But if Alistair was thinking any of that, it did not show in his purposeful stride or the lines and shadows on his face. Alistair was focused on one thing, and one thing only; leaving the city behind and getting to the Vigil. The Commander was in trouble and he refused to be the only Grey Warden left in Ferelden.

They left the city limits easily enough, but after an hours worth of travel, both he and Zevran quickly realized that the dark spawn were not going to ground as history had predicted. They came upon burnt remains of what used to be whole farmsteads, bodies hanging from trees, mangled corpses of cattle and sheep. Every so often there was a body lashed to a statue with rope and bits and pieces of discarded trash or strung up from a tree...evidence that the dark spawn were still making their presence felt in Ferelden. Alistair gritted his teeth as he passed these by. Normally he would have taken the bodies down and seen them given a proper funeral. But there was no time for that. So instead he lowered his head and concentrated on the road before them, the Pilgrims Path had never seemed so dark in all the time he had spent on the road, with Duncan nor with Lyna.

"Maker's breath!" exclaimed Zevran. "I thought the dark spawn would retreat to the deep roads," the elf hissed as they passed a burnt out shell of a house. Though the smell spoke of more than burnt wood and paint.

"I thought so too," Alistair growled.

They made it to the Vigil quickly, their pace being that of the lengthy quickened strides of the Grey Warden rather then the former Crow. Zevran had taken to glaring at his companion by the time the Vigil was in sight.

Alistair had stopped just before the outer gates and then looked around as if expecting something to leap out at him at any moment.

"Alistair-," Zevran started to say something and was cut off by Alistair's raised hand.

"Any moment now," Alistair said in a hushed voice.

Zevran raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps you will tell me what we are waiting for? Maybe then I could hallucinate it along with you, yes?"

Alistair shot the elf a glare which received a shrug in reply.

Some moments passed and Alistair fidgeted with his plate gloves nervously. "This isn't right," he said with a frown. "This isn't how it happened," Alistair muttered.

"Maker's breath!" Zevran swore. "Tell me you did not drag me all the way out here, simply because you had a nightmare."

"It was more than that!" Alistair snapped back.

Zevran sighed, "Alright, alright. You are so tense, maybe you need a massage."

"The Vigil looks the same as in my dream," Alistair muttered ignoring Zevran's comment.

Zevran turned from Alistair to face the building in question. "So, that is the Vigil? I did not realize it would be quite so large, nor quite so...filthy," the elf made a face that had Alistair chuckling.

"It does look rather a bit ruined, doesn't it?" he asked and then his eyes widened. This is exactly like what happened in his dream. Zevran had said the Keep looked filthy and then he said it seemed ruined and then he said, "Something...doesn't seem quite right here."

And just as his dream predicted, a scream followed his statement and from the gates a man dashed towards them. "Help me! Help! Someone! They're after me!" he tripped and went down. Alistair started rushing towards him to help him up when just as before, a Genlock charged towards the man, battle ax raised.

"Dark Spawn!" roared Alistair and he drew his shield and sword. Zevran was quick to respond and with the three of them they managed to defeat the monster and the Ogre that followed.

"Its you isn't it?" the man fell to his knees before Alistair. "Prince Alistair the Brave! You've come to save us!"

"What? Maker's breath! Not again! Stop that, man! I'm not a Prince, nor am I in line for the throne any longer, get up!" he pulled the man up gently as the poor soul looked as if he was about to waste away right before Alistair's eyes.

"Yes, Sir," the man said forlornly, clearly confused that Alistair said 'not again' as he was certain he'd never met Alistair before now. "My Lord, the Warden-Commander...she needs help!"

"I know, I came as quickly as I could," Alistair responded.

"They ambushed us from the inside, My Lord! So much death! Surprised us in our sleep, they did!" the man sobbed. "If it hadn't been for the Commander, we'd all be dead! She and Gustav are the only Wardens left! They're holding them off, but they're getting tired. We've lost half the soldiers and she asked me to run to Amaranthine for help," he finally slumped in Alistair's grasp, probably from exhaustion.

"We need to get in there," Alistair said to Zevran after he laid the man down in a grassy patch alongside the road.

"Did you truly dream all this?" Zevran asked with awe and a touch of disbelief on his face.

"Don't ask me how, maybe it really is a Grey Warden thing. I don't know for certain, I'd only been a Warden for six months before Ostagar," Alistair admitted.

Zevran drew his longsword and dagger. "Fascinating! Well, let us get in there and save our Warden-Commander, yes?"

Alistair drew his own weapon and shield, "Yes."

* * *

**A/N: Alistair to the rescue! So, what do you think?**

**Once again, a big thank you to Melismo. She makes all the bad grammar go away. **


	3. Chapter 3

******The Awakening**

******A Dragon Age Fanfiction**

******By Bionca Femme**

******Disclaimer: ****I still own nothing.**

******Chapter 2: ****Destinies Call**

* * *

Alistair and Zevran fought their way through the outer walls of the Vigil. They met little resistance just inside the outer walls, only finding a few clusters of dark spawn, all of them ganging up on lone soldiers who'd been caught up in the siege. They made short work of the monsters and every man and woman they saved directed them towards the portcullis, where supposedly the Commander was up to her eyeballs in dark spawn.

They finally made it to the inner gate and found themselves confronted with an almost painfully familiar sight. There, surrounded by almost twenty of the beasts, was an elven woman. She was wearing silverite plate armor and her helmet had been discarded, her shoulder length red hair was a stark contrast against the darkness around her, and Alistair was reminded of the rose he'd picked in Lothering after escaping Ostagar.

Sidona Andras drew back her broad sword and swung her shield in a wide arc, knocking the creatures back, allowing her a look at the newcomers. Upon seeing them she grinned and raised her sword high in the air in greeting. "Its about time you got here! Be good fellows and give me a hand, yes?"

Alistair and Zevran exchanged bemused looks and then launched themselves into the battle. Alistair quickly found himself back to back with the small woman as the creatures surrounded them. Zevran would fade in and out of view, true to his rogue abilities, avoiding detection until he was ready to strike.

The enemy was no match for them. When the last of the creatures had been felled, Alistair found himself confronted by a pair of eyes so dark brown they were almost black.

"I suppose that since you are a Grey Warden and not from Orlais, it is safe to assume that you are Alistair, no?" she inquired as she put away her weapons.

"No..." he agreed with a silly grin and then he laughed nervously when he realized what he'd said. "I mean, yes!" he corrected himself. "That's me, I'm Alistair. And this," he jerked a thumb at the ex-Crow at his side, "is Zevran."

"Charmed," Zevran smiled in his lazily seductive way.

The Commander lifted an eyebrow at the elf, clearly unimpressed. Alistair had to restrain himself from snickering. "A pleasure to meet you. As you might have already guessed, I am the new Warden-Commander. My name is Sidona. Now, gentleman, if you do not mind, would you do me the honor of helping me clear out the Vigil? I think we got the bulk of the creatures taken care of, but I believe there are more lurking within the keep. And perhaps there is something even more disturbing within," she finished with a frown.

"More disturbing than dark spawn?" Alistair mentally slapped himself for sounding so stupid.

"A dark spawn that talks, to be more specific," Sidona said archly.

"What?" Alistair's incredulous laugh was met with an impassive expression. "Wait, you're not joking are you? You're actually serious?" Alistair folded his arms over his broad chest. "How in the Maker's name is that even possible?" he frowned.

"You are asking me questions I do not have the answer to, brother. However if you will help me here, I intend on asking the creature personally." She turned to face the keep and Alistair swore he heard her say, "Suddenly, violently, and all over the place. Not necessarily in that order."

"Lead the way, Commander," Alistair said with a lifted eyebrow. The way he was finding himself looking at her was anything but...brotherly.

"So, we are going to fight our way through a very large fortress with no idea how many foes we face? Talking dark spawn? Peril at every turn? How exciting!" Zevran said with mock excitement. "After you, Warden-Commander."

* * *

They followed the Commander into the Keep's interior, and almost as soon as they entered the Vigil they were brought up short by an interesting sight. Standing there with fire blazing from his fingertips was a Mage, when the fire ceased a dark spawn fell to the ground in a crispy heap.

Alistair took in the sight and realized that among the dark spawn lay the bodies of fallen Templars. "Apostate!" he growled. "Did you murder these men?"

The Mage turned around and folded his arms, giving Alistair a slightly bored look. "Not I, the dark spawn caught us unawares, I was unshackled to help defeat these mangy beasts."

Alistair eyed the man but said nothing. Which seemed to embolden the Mage. "Don't get me wrong or anything, I'm not particularly upset about them dying," he jerked his head at a fallen templar at his feet. "Biff there made the funniest gurgle when he went down."

Alistair sighed heavily then looked down at the woman at his side. "We could take him with us. I possess all the abilities of a Templar," he cast the Mage a meaningful look. "If he gets out of line, I could put him down if need be."

He was startled but pleased by the warm chuckle from Sidona, "I don't believe he'll be a problem, but I thank you." She looked the Mage over calculatingly, "I require your assistance, Ser Mage."

"And you have it," Anders replied happily. And then cast Alistair a wary look. "We'll discuss what comes later...later when all these dark spawn are taken care of, yes? Until then my name is Anders, Mage and wanted apostate, at your service."

"Oh, don't you worry. We _will_ discuss this. Make no mistake about that," Alistair assured him.

Zevran took a deep pull of air through his nose. "Ahh, I do so enjoy the smell of testosterone in the air, don't you agree, my dear?" he leaned in conspiratorially to Sidona.

Sidona's answering laugh was rich and inviting, "Personally I prefer a good duel for a woman's attentions, rather than such a display of words. But in a pinch it does tickle a lady's fancy."

"Oh?" Zevran grinned and took her by the arm, leading her away from the Mage and the former templar. "Speaking of tickling fancies, did you know that before tonight our friend Alistair had never before had his fancy tickled?"

Alistair's face turned a dark red as did his ears and his plate armor felt uncomfortably hot. A chuckle from beside him brought a scowl to his face. He turned the scowl at the source.

Ander's shrugged his shoulders, "Orlesians and Antivans. Marvelously over-sexed and absolutely atrocious gossips."

Alistair's eyebrows raised almost into his hairline. "Oh I wasn't-," he started.

"She is quite the looker, isn't she?" Anders replied with a smirk.

"And deserving of your respect," Alistair growled.

"Oh please, I saw the way you were looking at her. But alright, alright. I recognize that you've obviously called firsts on her and who am I to get in the way of a man's 'fancy'?" he grinned and then left Alistair there with the scowl still on his face.

"Lovely," Alistair muttered. "I'm going to regret this, I just know it."

When he caught up to the three they were kneeling before a wounded man in a poorly lit hallway.

"Where did it go, Gustav?" the Commander queried as Anders knelt at the man's side, presumably to see if he could be healed.

"They were heading for the east tower, Commander," he cried out in pain. "There is money that I have saved in the strong box in my chambers. Could you-," he cried out again. "Could you get it to my wife?"

"I'd rather get _you_ to your wife," Sidona replied, her voice laced with grief.

"He's beyond healing magic, Commander. Perhaps a little whiskey for the pain?" Anders suggested.

"Do you have any?" Sidona asked.

Anders produced a small flask from a pocket in his robes and handed it to her. She placed it against Gustav's lips and he drank from it and then coughed. Not long after, the man expired.

Long moments passed and finally Alistair knelt by the Commander's side, his leaned forward slightly and found that her cheeks were wet. "Sidona," he said gently. "We'll come back for him, you have my word."

She looked up into his eyes and his breath caught in his throat. Staring back at him was the same naked grief he had felt when Lyna had taken the final blow. The same pain was mirrored in the eyes of the Warden-Commander. Gustav must have been close to her. "You are right, Alistair," she offered him a small reassuring smile. She could save her grief until later.

He offered her a hand up and she took it with a grateful nod. "When we get to this talking dark spawn, leave him to me," she ordered with a growl. "Vengeance will be mine."

Thereafter as they fought their way through the Vigil towards the East tower, Sidona fighting as if a woman possessed. There were none that could stand before her and she cut through their foes with deadly speed and accuracy. They soon found themselves face to face with their enemy.

"Be taking this one gently," the talking dark spawn dressed in purple and silver armor pointed at the Senechal who was struggling in the hurlock's grasp. "The Architect is wishing no more death than is necessary."

"Necessary?" scoffed Varel. "As if your kind has ever done anything else!"

"You are thinking you know of my kind human!" the monster gurgled. "That will soon be changed."

"Creature!" bellowed a woman's voice. There Sidona stood, fire in her eyes and the creature's death in her feral grin. "Face me, for I am your death!"

"Get them! Keep the Warden's alive!" it snarled.

"It really _is_ talking!" exclaimed Anders excitedly.

"Yes, hooray! Can we kill it now?" snarked Alistair.

Sidona didn't waste time examining the improbability of the creature, instead she charged it with a wild rage. Luckily, the Hurlock dropped Varel who fell forwards onto his hands and knees. Alistair rushed the hurlock that had released him and made quick work of the monster. Whatever happened Varel was unarmed and Alistair was determined that no more would die that night. He took up position in front of the man and watched as Sidona, Zevran and Anders took out the talking dark spawn and its minions.

The battle ended as Sidona knocked aside the talking dark spawns weapon and spun, her dragonbone blade glinting in the moonlight, the swing ended in a spray of black blood and the dull thud of the creatures head as it fell to the stone at the elven woman's feet.

"Anders, Zev," Alistair motioned the two men over to him. "Could you look after Varel while," he cast a glance at Sidona, "while I accompany the Commander back to Gustav's body?"

"As you wish, Alistair," Zevran said while Anders was already bending down and tending to the wounds Varel had sustained before their arrival.

Alistair nodded his thanks and then made his way over to Sidona, who was still staring down at the body of the dark spawn. "Commander," he said softly.

She didn't look up at him, but replied none-the-less, "Alistair, I believe I requested that you call me Sidona, yes? Such formality does not suit you."

"Sidona," Alistair's voice was still soft but now held an apologetic tone. "I believe I promised we would go back and see to Gustav."

"Yes," Sidona nodded and then sheathed her long sword and reharnessed her shield. "Thank you."

He held out his arm, as if she were wearing a gown instead of plate armor. She gave him a thankful smile and took it.

Together they gathered up Gustav's body and she had him help her take it to where they were keeping the dead that they were able to collect during the siege. Alistair was shocked to see that only six Wardens were present amongst the dead.

"Are the others still waiting to be collected?" he asked out of confusion.

Sidona pulled off her gauntlets and sat down on a bench located in the large room the dead were being housed in. "Well, Kristoff is still in the field...there was Gustav here, all that have not been taken by the dark spawn are in this very room. So no, they are not waiting to be collected. The monsters have collected them already," she leaned forward, elbows on her knees as she dug her palms into her eyes, perhaps trying to press the after images of the carnage from them.

"Collected?" Alistair's voice cracked. "Do the dark spawn even do that?"

"Ridiculous as it sounds, it is true. I watched them take some of our dead and severely wounded with them. I would have followed, but I had all I could do, not to lose the Vigil. I am the youngest Warden-Commander in a long time, Alistair. I am being watched very closely. If I were to lose the Vigil, the First Warden would have my, how do you say? He would have my arse?" she looked to him for help finding the right expression.

Alistair laughed. "Yes, that's right! Have your arse on a plate with a side of peas. He's a squirrelly one, that First Warden!"

Sidona eyed him as if assessing whether or not he was mocking her and then her face broke out into a grin, "Clever, this is the Fereldan sense of humor, yes?"

"Don't they have them in Orlais?" Alistair teased with a smirk.

"The people of Orlais do not have a sense of humor that we are aware of, no," Sidona replied dryly.

"Cute," Alistair laughed. "And that explains a lot actually."

Sidona made no reply as her gaze had drifted downwards to the body of Gustav. For a moment Alistair was certain that she was going to start crying. "We went through our joining together," she gestured down at the body with a nod of her head.

"He was a friend, then?" Alistair sat down next to her, their plate armor making a clinking noise as they collided slightly.

She nodded. "For my part, he was not a very talkative fellow, so I know not how he felt about me. I think perhaps I did most of the talking, now that I think about it."

Alistair nodded. "Lyna was a bit like that too. She liked to ask questions, but she never really talked all that much about her own life. I never pushed her, I guess I just figured she'd talk to me when she was ready, you know? And then...well...then it was too late. But, she was a great listener."

A wistful smile crossed Sidona's full lips. "As was Gustav."

"Do you think," Alistair paused looking a bit conflicted for a moment and then continued, "do you think that maybe its not worth it? Getting to know someone, I mean? What with what we face everyday. Is it really worth all the heartache?"

He turned to look into her face, which was also turned to him. She seemed to be studying him intently.

After some time she nodded. "I believe so."

Alistair felt himself flush under her intense brown eyed gaze and hastily looked away, letting his eyes instead fall on the rows of bodies in the room. "I was planning on going to Highever, before all this. But if its alright with you, I'd like to stay and help out for awhile."

"I'd like that, thank you Alistair," she stood and pushed her hair back from her face with both hands. As she did, Alistair noticed that her bright red mop of hair had been hiding scars on her cheeks. A horizontal slash on each of her smooth cheeks stood out almost white against her tan skin. "A story for another time," she said as she let her hair fall back into place, once again hiding the sides of her face.

"I-," Alistair flushed again, only out of guilt rather than from the crush he was developing. "I'm sorry, I just...wasn't expecting that, not that you look less pretty or anything...," Alistair squeezed his eyes shut in embarrassment, "I mean you don't have to tell me about it, if you don't want to. Its none of my business, really."

"Worth the heartache," Sidona replied with a smile. She did not comment on his comment that he thought she was pretty, perhaps to save him further embarrassment. "Remember?"

Alistair nodded and then cleared his throat. "Maybe we should...uh...go make sure Zevran and Anders don't burn down what's left of the keep?"

A soft chuckle and then a nod. "I suppose that would be wise."

* * *

The next day found Sidona up before dawn's light had a chance to peak over the horizon. Her night had been spent tossing and turning, the last few days replaying over and over again in a grotesque loop of memory. But before she drifted off into sleep she let her imagination wander to a certain blonde human man, a fellow Warden and former Prince. One that had felt her distress from miles away in Denerim. He was at once handsome and a little strange. Almost too shy and humble for as handsome as he was. He had none of the arrogance that she had come to expect from the human men of this country. It was true that even in Orlais, elves were treated differently, but they were not openly spat upon there as in this country. It seemed that almost as soon as she set foot on Fereldan soil the humans in this land seemed determined to make her feel less than worthy of breathing the same air as them.

Alistair Theirin, the bastard child of King Maric and half brother to King Cailan. She had met Cailan only once, and that had been when he came to visit Empress Celine. At the time she was newly recruited and stationed at the Imperial Palace. The Empress and she had quickly become the best of friends and knowing Cailan's near-worship of the Wardens, Celine had ordered her to stay throughout the meeting with the young King.

King Cailan was exuberant and handsome, and the Empress had been quite taken with him. But he was married to Queen Anora and unattainable. Despite that fact, it did not stop the Empress from showing off her "prized" Warden to the King in hopes of impressing him. Sidona had been shoved forward and introduced to the man. The King had greeted her, as if she were an old acquaintance, and then proceeded to sing the praises of her order, compliment her for rising through the ranks at such a young age and newly recruited, and then had invited her to Ferelden to meet with Duncan the Senior Warden there. A man the King seemed to think quite highly of. When Sidona learned of his death she felt quite saddened. He seemed to be a wonderful man.

Alistair himself bore a slight resemblance to the King, but that is where the similarities ended. While Alistair seemed to be fun-loving, he was also pragmatic and knew when things were serious. And even more importantly when things were too serious. He had made her smile, despite her guilt over losing Gustav. He seemed to know exactly what she needed last night and had taken over on the things that she was too weary to handle on her own. The Vigil was safe for the remainder of the night, in large part because of him. She only hoped that he was true to his word and stayed on to help her get things sorted out.

She rose, still bone-tired and a little grumpy. Regardless she pulled on a pair of trousers, shirt and leather boots, and headed down to the kitchens, where the kitchen staff supplied her with her customary mug of sweetened black coffee and a roll. Carrying these treats out to the courtyard with her, she proceeded to make the rounds. First to Voldrik, the Dwarf stone mason that arrived shortly before she was sent there by the First Warden, to make repairs at the Vigil. Rendon Howe had let many of his estates, including Vigil's Keep, fall to ruin. Thus it was up to the Wardens to repair the damage.

"I can raise eighty sovereigns in time, Voldrik. I do not believe that I can do more than that. We need to eat, after all," she replied to his request and then popped the last of her roll into her mouth and took a sip of her coffee.

"That should be enough Warden. I also need better stone. Human masons will use whatever is available," Voldrik wrinkled his bulbous nose in distaste.

"Obviously," Sidona said around her mouthful of food.

"I need granite, the blacker the better," he pressed, passing a hand over his beard, smoothing it.

Sidona sighed heavily, "If I get you this granite, will that be the end of it?"

"Of course!" Voldrik replied. "Well...probably," he conceded.

"Alright! I shall get you your granite," she groaned. She lifted her mug to her lips and drained the last of her coffee. Scowling at the empty mug she turned to head back towards the Vigil to get more when her eye caught a familiar figure conversing with Herren at the Smithy.

"Oh Wade!" she heard Herren gush. "Look who's come to visit us! Its Prince Alistair!"

"Well la-dee-dah!" Wade huffed in response. "I'm still bloody cold!"

Herren shushed his companion and returned his attention to Alistair, who at this point looked distinctly uncomfortable. "Never mind him, Sire. He's just a tad homesick. What can we do for you today?"

"Its not Sire, actually. I had to give up my claim to the throne," Alistair explained.

"Hogwash!" Herren exclaimed. "The son of King Maric will never be anything but a Prince. Blood is blood, after all!"

"Yes, well..." Alistair cleared his throat. "I wondered if you might have any broadswords for sale, perchance?"

"Oh, of course!" Herren tittered and brought out a selection of swords for him to look at.

Sidona sauntered up to Alistair's side, "Looking for a bigger blade?"

Alistair jumped as he obviously hadn't heard her approaching, "What? Well no...not a bigger one...just one that I don't have to worry about breaking." He watched as one of her auburn eyebrows lifted in response. "Um...well you see, I'm using Duncan's blade and shield...and while they're fine weapons, I would rather they were hung in a place of honor. I don't want to ruin them."

"Ah, I see," she replied. "That is very thoughtful of you."

"Is it?" he asked offhandedly as he averted his gaze from her and hefted a sword in his hand.

Sidona watched him keep his gaze on anything but her and got the feeling that if she had not caught him here, she would not have seen him for the rest of the day. "Alistair, I will need your help with something later, if you do not mind?"

Alistair's grip on the weapon on his hand slipped for the briefest moment and he recovered it quickly. The casual observer might not have noticed, but Sidona had. Having survived years of dealing with Imperial court and learning how to read people, if she had to hazard a guess she would say that Alistair was extremely attracted to her.

"Uh...sure? What do you need?" he asked.

"I have to send missives to families of the Wardens who live outside of Amaranthine. They will want to collect the possessions of their loved ones. We cannot wait any longer on the pyre," she explained.

"I...have never been very good with dealing with such things," she admitted.

"I see," he put the sword down and finally turned to face her. She felt her stomach flutter for the briefest moment and she wondered how she could have ever compared the man to King Cailan. Alistair surpassed his brother's good looks by leaps and bounds. "Why do you think that I would be any help?" he asked.

"Mmm, perhaps I should rephrase that instead?" she sighed. "I will be a bit emotional once I am done writing the letters. I do not think it would be wise for me to be alone. Varel is...well...Varel. Anders would expect some sort of 'favor'. And I thought that you might like to hear the story I promised to tell you," she fidgeted with the mug in her hands and looked down at her feet for a moment before looking back up to gauge his reaction.

For a moment he seemed to be trying to figure out if she had any ulterior motives. Finally a small smile appeared on his lips and his eyes crinkled at the sides. "So...you're saying that I'm the only one you trust?"

The question caught Sidona off guard and she opened her mouth and then shut it again. She frowned then scowled then she rubbed the bridge of her nose with a forefinger. Finally, she shrugged and her face relaxed and she smiled. "I think that I have come to have a sense of your personality. I believe you will not take advantage of my vulnerability," she teased.

Alistair studied her again for sometime and then he bowed slightly, "I would be honored, my Lady. When and where would you like me to help you this evening?"

Sidona could feel her ears heat up. Which typically happened when she blushed. "After dinner, in my sitting room?"

Alistair nodded, "I shall see you then."

Sidona returned the nod and then hurried off as fast as her little elven legs could carry her. Alistair watched her until she disappeared into the Vigil.

Herren cleared his throat causing Alistair to flush with embarrassment. Truly, he'd forgotten where he was and what he had been doing while he had watched the lovely Commander walk away. "Heh, sorry," he apologized.

"Oh, don't you worry about it," Herren leaned forward conspiratorially. "She is quite beautiful. If I were more inclined towards the fairer sex I might be gawking, too."

"G-Gawking?" Alistair stammered. "What? No, no, no...I wasn't gawking! I was just...watching to make sure she made it into the Vigil alright."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, honey," Herren smirked.

* * *

**A/N: hehehe I love Wade and Herren. So funny. I hope you are all well. Let me know what you think of the Orlesian Warden thus far.**

**Big Thanks to Melismo as always!**


	4. Chapter 4

******The Awakening**

******A Dragon Age Fanfiction**

******By Bionca Femme**

******Disclaimer: ****I own squat.**

******Chapter 3: ****Scars**

* * *

Dinner for Alistair turned out to consist of eating while watching the Commander scowl at Varel, who used the opportunity to unload the next few days itinerary on her.

"Tomorrow evening the Nobles will be here to swear fealty to you. In the morning you should really have a look at the prisoner that we put down in the holding cell. And Mistress Woolsey would like an opportunity to discuss the trade situation. Also-," Seneschal showed no signs of slowing with the list of things to be done.

"Varel!" Sidona interrupted him sharply. The Seneschal stopped talking and his face took on a pained expression. "For Andraste's sake, breathe!" she scolded. "Is there anything that I need to attend to tonight?" she asked.

"No Commander," Varel admitted.

"Well then, please allow me to eat my dinner. Tomorrow will take care of itself," she assured him.

Varel inclined his head. "As you wish, Commander," he replied, though his expression seemed of the unconvinced variety.

Alistair found that he was immensely grateful for the silence. Which was only broken up by the whispers going on between Anders and Zevran. He observed the two for a time, and from what he could gather they were having a spirited discussion about the Tower and how stuffy the Mages were. When Zevran started talking about Wynne and the virtues of the woman's bosom and the possibility that it could be a magical bosom, Alistair tuned them out. Instead he turned his attention back to Sidona, only to find that he had also caught her attention. She popped a last mouthful of stew into her mouth and stood.

"I am retiring for the night," she informed them all and then sent Alistair a brief but meaningful look. Alistair watched her leave the hall with confusion. Was she canceling their meeting? He sat there for a moment and contemplated the meaningful look she'd sent him.

"Oh!" he exclaimed suddenly having realized that she meant for him to come up to her room, but that she didn't want others to know that's what he was doing. Then he blushed at the implications. People would think them lovers if they knew that he was visiting her in her chambers, unchaperoned. He wondered then, why it was that they couldn't just write the letters in her study, some other time...during the day perhaps? He shook his head to clear it. No...she could never...not with him. He would never be near good enough for her. After all, she was beautiful, despite the scarring. Even lovelier than Lyna had been, and Alistair had often thought that Lyna had been the most beautiful woman he had ever known. Lyna also scared the hell out of him, which was why he never pursued her. After a time though, he'd gotten to know her and he realized that she was a wonderful person, underneath all that intimidation, but by then she'd been involved with Zevran.

Sidona however, she was warm, engaging...sexy...a terror on the battlefield. He thought that maybe, especially now that he was no longer so much of an innocent, he could really find something with her that he had longed for all his life. But she seemed out of his league. He looked over at where Anders and Zevran sat and found the honey brown eyes of Zevran staring back at him.

The elf lifted an eyebrow at him and tilted his head towards the door that the Commander had exited through not moments before. The expression on his face said, '_Aren't you going up after her?'_

Alistair took a deep breath and nodded, though he tried not to get his hopes up, she could after all only want to tell him her story and have him be there when she wrote those letters, as she said. Still, even to his naive nature, the situation said that she wanted more from him. He stood and excused himself from the table and then exited through the same door that she had.

Finding her room turned out to be easier than he assumed it would be. She was given the Master suite and the door was at the end of the hall in the family wing. Alistair stopped before the door and ran his hand through his hair nervously, then he raised it to knock on the door. The door opened before he had a chance however, and he found himself pulled into her room and the door shut firmly behind him.

"How did you know I was out there?" he looked from her to the door and back again.

"You know, I don't have any idea. Its one of the things I wanted to discuss with you, actually," she gestured for him to sit down in one of the chairs that was facing the fire. He did so and she sat in the chair opposite him, she leaned forward, her chin resting on the heel of her hand. "I felt you."

"You did? Like how we can sense dark spawn?" he asked. "I can sense you're in the building but I can't tell where. Are you more sensitive to the taint, do you think?"

She shrugged. "I was wondering how you knew that I was in trouble from as far away as Denerim, actually. I thought that you might have been nearby and felt that I needed help. Sometimes the older Wardens can sense each other when they are in danger. I was hoping that perhaps you had unlocked the ability and could share. I see however, from the look on your face that you are just as in the dark about it as I."

Alistair nodded. "That makes sense, though I didn't know about the ability, you're right. Actually, this may sound crazy to you but, I dreamed that the Vigil was under attack."

"You dreamed we needed help?" she looked genuinely baffled. "Interesting. Would you mind if I sent a missive to the First Warden about this? I have never heard of such a thing."

Alistair shook his head, "I think at this point I would be grateful to learn how it happened, myself."

Sidona nodded. "I thank you for coming. Honestly, I didn't know if you would. Considering how it must look to you," her face pinked and Alistair found himself fighting back a grin.

"Oh? And how does it look to me?" he teased, surprising even himself with the boldness of his words.

"Well you were invited, alone, to the chambers of a female commanding officer, I think that looks rather...suspect, do you not agree?" this time it was her that was smiling.

Alistair did break out into a grin at that. "Oh?"

Sidona laughed. "You are a far more dangerous a man than you seem, Alistair."

"Me?" he looked a little taken aback.

"Yes, women must fall all over themselves when they are around you. You are quite charming when you want to be," she winked and then stood. She went over to the desk in the room and retrieved a sheaf of vellum along with a quill and inkwell.

"Really?" Alistair mused. "In the past I was told I was awkward and endearing, never charming."

"Then you have grown greatly since then," she smiled at him and then sat down.

Alistair watched her set the inkwell on a small table that sat next to the chair away from the fire. She dipped the quill into it and began writing. "I hate doing this," she sighed.

"You're doing more than most do, I don't believe that even Duncan took the time to notify families when Wardens died," he commented.

She lifted her head, "Your Duncan, he was a good man. But that he did not find time to send news to Warden families does not surprise me, it is more common than I am comfortable admitting. Many good men and women die in the joining and in the field, their families never know what becomes of them. We are a very insulated order, loners almost each and every one of us. We are in the business of dying, after all. It can be a very lonely existence. I am certain it never occurs to most that our brethren may in fact have husbands, wives, and children left behind."

"That's...terrible," Alistair replied sadly.

"It is, which is why I am doing this now," she put the first letter on the floor before her to let it dry before starting on the next.

Some time passed and as she started the last letter, Alistair watched her face. Something caught the firelight as it trailed down cheek her and sparkled as it fell onto her hand. He realized that it was a tear, and it was followed by another, and then another. She said nothing and made no noise until she signed the bottom of the letter and it was place neatly on the floor with the others. The quill was put into the ink pot and her hands came up to cover her face. Her shoulders shook with silent sobbing and Alistair could bare to watch no longer. He stood and crossed to her, he then pulled her up from her seat and wrapped his arms around her. Her head rested on his chest as she cried.

Eventually she stepped out of his arms, although slowly as if she were reluctant to, and then she looked up into his face, tear tracks evident on hers, "Thank you," she gave him a watery smile.

Alistair chuckled and on impulse reached out and wiped a tear from her left cheek with the pad of his thumb. "You're welcome," his thumb was joined by the rest of his fingers as they brushed against the side of her face and gently moved her hair away. "You told me you would tell me how you came by these."

She pulled away from him and then turned to face the fire. "I did. It is not a pleasant story, I warn you."

"I am still willing to listen if you're willing to tell me," he sat back down and waited. Finally so did she.

"I was young when I was recruited into the Wardens," she began as her gaze drifted to the fire, her memories taking her back in time.

_"____Why does he do that, ma sœur?" The little boy she is tucking into bed is looking up at her with wet eyes. Eyes that are the same dark brown as hers, eyes so dark that she's been told they are black._

_"____I know not," Sidona replies. At fifteen years-old she no longer questions why their father drinks as he does, nor why he hurts their mother - and on occasions when their mother is not within ____arm's____ reach - her. It has been this way since she turned twelve. For her brother Timious, this right of passage from childhood has come early. Tonight Sidona threw herself in front of her ten year-old brother, the blow meant for him landing instead upon her back._

_"____Does it hurt?" His smaller hand reached out and gripped hers and she smiles down at him._

_"____Only a little; in a little while I'm sure it will go away," she assures him. Which is a lie, of course, but one that she has told all too many times. The fist had landed on her shoulder blade and will bruise. She watches as the look of concern on her brother's face darkened to one of pure hatred. An expression that no young boy should ever have._

_"____When I get bigger, I'm going to kill him!" he declares._

_"____Do not say such things," Sidona admonishes tiredly. Hoping that if she doesn't sound frightened he will not continue with the conversation._

_"____He hurts you and ma mere." The dark eyes narrow beneath the thick thatch of black hair. She is the only one with hair like their grandmere. Hair so red that in the sun it is like living flame. Some would say that when provoked she had a temper to match. But she was able to control herself - when it suited her. Lately she saved her rage for her teacher. The man lived to provoke her. Though, she supposed as a teacher of Martial training and combat, it is probably necessary to do so. She is grateful to have an outlet for her rage, even if she thinks he receives an odd satisfaction from it. No one but her brother knew that she skipped school to receive training. So far she managed to avoid anyone finding out._

_"____As soon as I come of age, we're out of here. Just you and me, remember?" She ruffles his hair._

_"____Yeah," the dark-haired boy grins. "Hurry up and grow already!"_

___Sidona chuckles. "Yes, Mon Capitaine! "_

_"____Goodnight, ma souer." The boy snuggles down into the blankets that were by now little more than rags, in a bed that is little more than a cot._

___She leans down and plants a kiss on his forehead, "Goodnight."_

___She leaves the room that they share quietly. Tonight is her sparring session with Master Enos, and she needs to sneak out of the house. Her Mother is in bed for the night, and by now her Father will be passed out in his favorite chair by the fire. None-the-less she tip toes her way down the hallway and almost makes it to the front door when she hears a voice just behind her._

_"____Just where do you think you're going?" The voice of her Father ____slurs____ out as her hand alights on the door latch._

_"____Out for a walk, Papa." She turns to face him but she doesn't look him in the eye. Even drunk her father could tell when she was lying just by looking her in the eye._

_"____No. You're going to meet with a boy, aren't you?" He accused and grabbed her upper arms painfully._

___Sidona's head snaps up and her eyes narrow on the man that she has come to know as Father, but is no real father of hers. He married her Mother when she was widowed, promising that he would take care of them. But soon after he started drinking and then Timious was born and he lost his job at the Imperial Palace. Then he began beating her Mother and eventually her._

___She defends herself, "I am not going to meet a boy!"_

_"____Do not lie to me!" He growls and she is flung away from him. Her thin back hits the opposite wall and the air is knocked from her lungs. "You're going to tell me where you're going!" His fist rises into the air and simultaneously Sidona's breath returns. Her mind already foggy from the lack of oxygen she reacts without thought. As he raises his hand against her, her foot lashes out and his feet are knocked out from beneath him. He falls and Sidona scrambles to her feet and then stumbles towards her bedroom. She can only think of Timious now, she has not the will to suffer this man's cruelty for one more day and she will not leave without her brother. There is no telling what their Father would do once he regained his footing._

_"____Tim," she hisses out as she shakes her little brother. "Tim, we need to get out of here!"_

_"____Wha-," the little ____boy's____ eyes open and then widen as their gaze drift past her to the figure now looming over them._

___Sidona turns hurriedly to see that their Father has finally made it back to his feet and is coming after her quicker than she thought he would. A glint of candlelight off steel draws a sharp horrified gasp from her lips._

_"____I'll teach you some manners, you little whore! Lets see if your sweetheart wants anything to do with you once I'm done with you." The knife flicks, once, twice. Lines of fire kiss her cheeks and she cries out._

_"____Sid!" her brother wails from behind her. Sidona's body prevents him from getting up from the mattress._

_" ____There, now you aren't nothin' but a cut up whore!" her Father sneers._

___Sidona's world goes red, of all the things in this world that she has, her beauty and her brother were the only things that she felt no one could take from her. In two movements he has ripped that security away. She stands up and advances on the man who, in the face of this newfound courage of hers, takes an uncertain step back. _

___She stops before him and he sneers at her once again. "What? You want more?" he asks._

_"____This is where you die," she growls and then she knocks the knife from his hand. Her body follows the moves that Master Enos has drilled into her until they become as easy to execute as breathing. She brings the heel of her hand up, driving it into his nose, with a crunch his nose breaks and the bones bury themselves into his brain. He goes down hard and does not move. She stands over his body for a long time, her face throbbing._

_"____Sidona, wha-?" The voice of her Mother brings her back to reality. "What have you done!" her Mother's angry shriek piercing the night. "Get out!"_

_"____Mama," Sidona recoils from the angry woman. "He cut me!"_

_"____And I'm certain you deserved it!" her mother hisses. "You murdered my husband! You are no daughter of mine!"_

___Sidona narrows her eyes angrily at the woman, "It's just as well, you aren't any kind of Mother I want to have," she turns to her brother. "Come on Tim. We're getting out of here."_

___Timious blinks at her as if seeing her for the first time. "No."_

_"____Tim?" there is disbelief written on her bleeding face._

_"____Mother has no one now. She needs me," Timious crawls out of bed and crosses the room to her. When he stands before her, he throws his arms around her. "I love you, ma souer!"_

___Sidona holds her brother for a moment and then her gaze shifts to her Mother, "Take care of him, the way you never took care of me. If I find out it has been otherwise and I will come and I will take him from you. You'll end up alone, just like you deserve."_

___Her Mother's face pales when she sees her daughter's dark brown eyes flash dangerously. "Get out," there is a tremble of fear in her voice._

___Sidona plants a kiss in her brother's hair. "Come and find me when you're old enough, Tim."_

_"____I will and thank you," Timious replies._

___With a final hug from her brother and a deadly glare at her Mother, Sidona leaves her childhood home behind. With nowhere else to go she makes her way to Master Enos' home. She stays on there for two more years, Master Enos increases her training and when she is seventeen she is recruited by the Grey Wardens. The youngest Orlesian recruit in many years._

"Did he ever come to find you? Your brother, I mean?" Alistair asked.

"No, when he came of age he left Mother to seek his fortunes. He was dead within a year. I received word that he took on four armed humans in a tavern brawl," Sidona's voice trembled but there were no tears. The past had been fully mourned for her and she could shed no more tears over it. There remained only reminders, which stood out in white horizontal lines on her tan cheeks. "That's how I came by the scars. My monster of a father gave them to me," she stood up and craned her neck upwards to look at him as Alistair stood as well and gazed back at her.

"Thank you for trusting me with it," he said quietly.

Sidona nodded. "One day you shall have to tell me your story," she ventured.

"Mine?" he tilted his head as he looked down at her. "It's not very interesting."

"No?" she reached out and took one of his large hands in her smaller one. "I do not think it is so uninteresting as you think. There are questions about you that I wish to have answered, ones that may be answered by hearing of your past."

"Such as?" Alistair regarded her with a lifted brow.

"You were a Prince and yet, you do not act as though you were raised as one. I can see the loneliness in your eyes, and I want to know why," her other hand came up and cupped his cheek.

Alistair let his eyelids slide closed and he leaned into the touch. His hand came upwards and took her hand from his face and he placed a kiss on her palm. "Perhaps," he said thickly, "another time? It's getting late."

Sidona looked disappointed but nodded. "Of course."

Alistair bid her a goodnight and then headed to the door, his mind already churning from her story and from the way he'd been laid bare at her light touch. Just as he was leaving through the door he heard her call to him quietly, "Not all scars are ones we can see, Alistair."

He paused in the doorway but did not look back before finally exiting her rooms, closing her door behind him. He made his way quickly to his room, the events of the night echoing in his mind. When his clothes had been shed and he lay in the large bed in his chamber down the hall from hers, he heard her words in the darkness, _'Not all scars are ones we can see, Alistair.'_

Unbidden he recalled a conversation he'd had with Lyna about his past.

_"____So you said this Arl Eamon raised you?" Lyna asked distractedly as they browsed through the wares in the Denerim Marketplace._

___Alistair froze with a small carved statuette he'd been admiring in his hand. "Oh, did I say that?" he chuckled nervously, his mind racing to come up with something witty to throw her off the inevitable conversation. "I meant that dogs raised me! Yes! That's it! Giant slobbering dogs, from the Anderfels."_

___Lyna turned to face him with an amused expression, "Well, that would explain the smell."_

_"____Well it wasn't until I was older that I realized that you're not supposed to actually lick yourself to get clean," Alistair said with a laugh._

___Lyna's dark eyebrow lifted, "One would have thought the Chantry would've beaten that out of you."_

___Alistair chuckled, "Well if you're going to insist upon listening to me then I suppose I can't convince you to let this drop."_

___Lyna shook her head. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, Alistair."_

___Alistair sighed. "I guess there's no harm in telling you, I suppose. Oh, how do I put this?" he ran a hand through his hair. "I'm a bastard. And before you make any smart comments, I mean the fatherless kind. My mother was a servant at Redcliffe castle when she got pregnant with me, and when she died during childbirth, Arl Eamon took me in. He was good to me... and he didn't have to be. I don't blame him anymore for sending me off to the Chantry when I was old enough."_

___Rather than ask if the Arl was his father like she could have, she surprised him by asking a totally different question. "Why did he send you to the Chantry?"_

_"____Arl Eamon married a young woman from Orlais. She despised me, possibly she resented the rumors that pegged me as the Arl's bastard. So I was packed up and sent to the Chantry as soon as I was old enough. It was just as well really, the Arlessa made sure that Redcliffe wasn't much of a home to me by then anyhow," he shrugged._

_"____What a terrible thing to do to a child," Lyna's face was sad._

_"____Maybe," Alistair admitted. "She felt threatened by my presence, I see that now," Alistair looked down at his feet and blinked rapidly. Even though the pain was old, he rarely ever talked about it. Somehow doing so made him feel incredibly lonely, especially since the last person he'd spoken to about this was Duncan. "I remember I had an amulet, with Andraste's holy symbol on it, the only thing I had left of my Mother. I was so angry at being sent away, I tore it off and threw it at the wall. Stupid, stupid thing to do."_

___Lyna's tiny hand set itself on his shoulder, "You were young."_

_"____And raised by dogs," Alistair shrugged. "Look, all I know is that the Arl is a good man, and well respected in the Landsmeet. And what's more he's Cailan's Uncle. So he's got a personal interest in taking down Teryn Loghain."_

___He looked up from his fidgeting fingers and met the elven woman's eyes. She seemed to be trying to look into his very soul. Finally as if she'd found what she looked for she nodded and then smiled. "Alright, Alistair. I trust your judgment. We'll set out for Redcliffe immediately."_

And that had been it. Not even when he had confessed that he was the son of King Maric had she treated him differently. She was good to him, treated him like family. She didn't coddle him, at least not really. Sometimes she needed to make the tough decisions and though he'd disagreed at times she'd done what she'd thought best, whether or not it felt wrong to him. But she always valued his opinion, helped him when he needed it and pushed him when he needed it. There had not been a lot of secrets between them, at least none that he knew of. One thing though was more apparent to him than anything else. There was a gaping hole where she'd been. A place in his heart he'd made especially for her. And now an emptiness. Sidona's touch and her questions probed at that emptiness and Alistair had a sneaking suspicion that if he examined the emptiness he would find that it had grown smaller. He didn't know whether that made him angry with her or immensely grateful.

* * *

******A/N: I originally was going to go for a mugged/attempted rape scenario for Sidona's backstory. But it echoed the city elf origin too closely. And truth be told, while I liked it in Origins, I think its totally inappropriate for the character.**

******I would like to take a minute to point out that Sidona's method for killing her Step-father is not technically physically possible. But is a common myth that has been popularized in the entertainment industry. I didn't realize that until my boyfriend pointed it out to me. He's a ninja nerd, so I take his word for it. He also looked over the whole flash back scene for me and made some adjustments to the wording. As a result he pointed out to me that I need to stop writing as I speak. I use the word "had" way too often. So for all of you that found that annoying previously, and were just too nice to say so, I apologize.**

******A big thank you to Melismo for being beta-fabulous. She got to this while in the midst of a very busy life.**


	5. Chapter 5

**The Awakening**

**A Dragon Age Fanfiction**

**By Bionca Femme**

**Chapter 4: **

* * *

Morning found Alistair hurriedly pulling on his clothes and scrambling downstairs for a breakfast that he knew he was terribly late for. Zevran looked up at him with some surprise on his face when he barreled into the room with his hair a mess and his tunic half tucked into his trousers. Ignoring the elf he ladled out a bowl of porridge from the cauldron on the sidebar for himself and took a seat next to his Assassin friend. He could feel the elf's eyes burrowing holes into the top of his head as he tucked into his meal.

"Alistair?" Zevran inquired after a moment.

"Zev?" Alistair replied through his mouthful of mush, only just managing not to get it everywhere.

His reply was met with an expectant silence and Alistair raised his eyes and was confronted with the dreaded raised eyebrow of his friend. Alistair sighed heavily and took a drink of the tea he poured himself before sitting down. "Nothing happened," he said finally.

"I find that hard to believe with the smoldering looks the two of you were exchanging all through dinner. What _did_ happen, precisely?" Zevran folded his hands under his chin and gazed at Alistair raptly, the way a child would when being told a particularly exciting fairytale.

"You aren't going to let me eat my porridge until I tell you everything, are you?" Alistair's eyes narrowed.

"Let me think," Zevran tapped his chin and made a show of thinking. "No...no, I think not."

"Alright, if it'll make you happy," the ex-templar huffed. "So she invited me there to be a shoulder to cry on, and she cried and told me of her past and how she came to be with the Grey Wardens. You know...normal stuff."

"Alistair, nothing that a Grey Warden does is normal. Honestly, I would have thought you'd caught onto that by now."

"What can I say? I'm a slow learner," Alistair grunted and then shoved another spoonful of porridge into his mouth.

"So you at least got to feel her in your arms then, yes?" the elf pressed.

Alistair could feel his face heat up. "Yes," he mumbled.

"So, what was she like? Is she a battle-hardened woman, with muscles that ripple and flex beneath her armor? Or is she soft and warm like an Antivan flower?" Zevran needled.

Alistair went all dreamy eyed, "Softer than she looks...and she smelled unbelievable. Like hyacinth and honey." He was swept up into his own fantasies a bit before a cleared throat brought him crashing back to reality.

"So are you going to woo her?" the Antivan asked with a grin.

"Woo her?" Alistair blinked at him stupidly for a moment. "Wait...what?"

"You know, dinner...dancing, making love to each other beneath the stars?" Zevran rolled his eyes. "_Wooing_. The art of endearing oneself to his or her intended for the purpose of a relationship... or just relations...whichever you prefer."

"I know what _wooing_ is!" Alistair glared at him indignantly. "I just don't think that it would be appropriate for me to pursue my superior. And I wouldn't just want '_relations'_ with her either, she deserves more than that."

Zevran studied him for a bit. "No, I don't think that is it at all. I think you're scared to open up to her."

"And you say that 'cause you know me _so_ well," Alistair sneered and then immediately regretted it. "Look, I'm...sorry. It's just that I'm not ready for...wooing."

"What is not to be ready for? What else do you have in your life besides dark spawn?" Zevran pointed out.

"I don't want things to be...well, awkward."

"Awkward is your middle name my friend," Zevran chuckled.

"My middle name happens to be Frederick, actually," Alistair replied.

"Truly?" Zevran asked with some surprise.

"No," Alistair deadpanned and then heaved himself up from the table. "Where is she anyway?"

"She is in the throne-room with the Senechal. They're going over some business," Zevran dropped him a wink before Alistair turned away completely.

Alistair snorted in response and deposited his dishes in the basin by the door before he left the mess hall. He would have gone the opposite way of the throne-room if he had his way. But yesterday proved that she would not simply let him be. So rather than wait for her to find him, he would try to at least make himself useful to her by trying to alleviate some of the burden that had been thrust upon her shoulders. As the only other Grey Warden on hand, that duty fell to him.

He entered the throne-room and his quarry was indeed where Zevran told him she would be. She was standing before Varel and two other people he didn't recognize. She seemed so tiny in comparison and yet still larger than life. If ever there was a question why she was chosen by the First Warden to take over the Arling, this was the answer. Whether it be one person in the room or twenty, all eyes were on her. Her stance told of hidden strength, her warm voice naturally set people at ease, her smile was positively infectious, her determined expressions doubly so. And when Varel explained who the prisoner below the dungeons was, her answering growl in response caused the Senechal to step back a pace.

"You mean to tell me that you've had him down there since a week before my arrival and you're only now informing me?" Alistair, who was leaning in a doorway, couldn't see her face but he could imagine her furious expression. He winced, he'd seen it on women before and he was not about to step in and be on the receiving end of _that_.

"My Lady Sidona," Varel held up his hands in a placating gesture. "Please try to understand that we're short on men and it took four Wardens to capture him. Gustav said that you might think he'd make a good candidate for the Wardens, so we left him," he tried to explain.

"You left that man in our dungeons for two weeks without informing me!" she threw her hands up into the air. "What if the dark spawn had gotten a hold of him? It may be the law to execute him, but I will not be a party to negligence and cruelty, Varel!"

Varel looked suitably ashamed of himself by the time her tirade was over. Just when Alistair seemed to think the argument was through the blond haired man to Varel's left spoke up. "In Varel's defense it was a terribly Orlesian thing to do."

There was silence in the hall and Alistair thought that Sidona would explode on the spot, leaving nothing but a blackened soot-stain where she stood. Instead she squared her shoulders and looked the man right in the eye. "Whatever problems you may have with Orlais, Sir, are your own business. I am Commander of the _Ferelden _Grey Wardens and_ your_ Arlessa. I am Orlesian no longer, Ferelden is now my home. It is not the policy of the Grey Wardens, Orlesian or otherwise, to condone needless cruelty to prisoners, and neither is it mine. You would do well to remember that before you speak out of turn."

Alistair felt a sudden compulsion to grab the man and pummel him. Rather than make a spectacle of himself in front of Sidona, however, he settled for coming to her rescue instead. "Commander, there you are!" he said, sounding as if he'd been looking all over for her. "I've been trying to track you down all morning," he affected a slight pout meant to convey that he thought she was avoiding him. "Didn't you say that you needed me to help you with Varel's long list of obligations today?"

Sidona turned and regarded him with relief on her face and a smile that was warm and grateful for his presence. He felt a twinge of guilt for having stood there while the yet to be named man tried to stomp all over her authority. "Alistair," she reached for his arm when he offered it to her and she clasped like a lifeline. "The Senechal has a prisoner for us to look at. I believe his name is Nathaniel Howe."

Alistair nodded. "Rendon Howe's son."

"Just so," replied the Commander. "I understand that The Hero of Ferelden killed the previous Arl after finding out he kidnapped Queen Anora and tortured several nobles, yes?"

"That's right. He was a terrible man, that's for certain. I wonder what his son is like," he mused.

"You're welcome to come with me to sate your curiosity," she inclined her head towards the door indicating that she'd like to leave the throne-room.

"As you wish my lady," he offered a curt nod to Varel and the pinched-faced woman by his side. He favored the other man with a warning glare

"Thank you for your time, Varel, Garavel, Mistress Woolsey," she nodded to each as she said their name and then let Alistair lead her out of the throne-room and into the corridor.

Once there Sidona let go of his arm and took a step away from him. "Thank you for coming to my rescue Alistair," she gave him a smile and started to walk off down the hall.

"Wait, I thought we were going together?" Alistair's lengthy stride caught him up with her and she stopped in her tracks.

"After last night I...well it seemed that you would not appreciate my company so soon," she fidgeted with her fingers nervously and avoided looking up into his face.

Alistair sighed heavily. In his head he knew that explaining himself was a bad idea and letting her think that she had offended him could only help him stay away from her. But his heart swatted the notion aside like a gnat and instead decided the truth was in order. "My leaving last night had little to do with you and more to do with..." he trailed off and then rubbed a hand over his face. "Lyna was the only one besides Duncan that I've ever really talked to about my past. I lost both of them. I just...people I confide in and care for tend to...die, or leave, or send me away. I'd rather that not happen again."

Sidona finally tilted her head up to look at him. "But Zevran is your friend, have you not told him of your past?"

"No," Alistair replied with a grimace. "Its not really the same."

"I don't understand," Sidona's expression turned puzzled.

"Duncan was like a Father to me, and Lyna was like a sister. Zevran is a good friend, but...we're not as close as that," Alistair was growing uncomfortable with the way this conversation was progressing.

"So, I would have to become like a sister to you?" she asked.

"No!" Alistair blurted out and his face reddened. "I mean...it's just...blast!" he crossed his arms. "I just don't see you as someone I could think of as a sister."

"Oh," Sidona said sadly. "I see."

"No," Alistair growled. "No, you don't. Please don't get upset or offended, but...last night I had to stop myself from behaving...well, really inappropriately."

"Oh," Sidona replied thoughtfully, and then her eyes widened. "Oh!"

"Maker!" he covered his face to hide his embarrassment. "This is way more complicated than I intended for it to get! I am sorry, Commander."

"Alistair," she said softly. "It's alright."

"No, it's not," Alistair said. "You're my superior. Really, its ok. I won't mention it again if you won't."

She shook her head. "Alistair, there is no Grey Warden rule against seeing your superior."

"There...there isn't?" he moved his fingers apart and peered through them at her cautiously. "Oh."

She laughed then and his stomach did somersaults. "No there isn't. Otherwise I would never have invited you up to my rooms last night."

His hands fell away from his face. "I...you...what?" he asked in confusion.

"I'll just let you think on that for awhile, shall I?" she smiled up at him and then she pushed herself upwards onto the tips of her toes and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. "I will see you later, _mon cher_."

She gave him one last dazzling smile before she disappeared down the corridor, leaving Alistair still staring after her with astonishment.

* * *

It took several minutes for Alistair to collect his wits after Sidona left him in the hallway. He thanked the Maker silently that no one had happened upon him standing there gaping like a fish out of water as he tried to reconcile what just happened with what he previously perceived as the reality of the situation. _ 'How can one woman single-handedly upend my life with but a few words and a kiss on the cheek?' _ he thought to himself before he took off in the direction she'd left in. He fully intended to not let her get away with just making statements like that, kissing him and running off. "That little minx!" he growled.

A short while later he entered the courtyard to find Anders sitting at the foot of the statue of Andraste and making babytalk to a bundle of orange fur in his lap. He stopped just sort of the Mage and cleared his throat. When Anders looked up Alistair crossed his arms. "Anders, please tell me you have a good reason for sitting at the foot of the Maker's bride and making coochie-coo noises at your nether regions."

"I'm not!" Anders responded with an indignant glare. "The Commander gave me a kitten she found just a moment ago," he turned his attention back to the kitten. "Isn't that right Ser Pounce-a-lot?"

The orange ball issued a soft "mew" in reply and stretched out its tiny kitten body before curling up tightly and going to sleep.

Alistair opened his mouth to comment when a shout from one of the ramparts interrupted him. "Travelers on the road!"

Alistair turned around to see who it was entering through the gates and immediately regretted it. There stood Anora, Queen of Ferelden in all her bitchy glory. Alistair groaned and then his eyes settled on the contingent of Templars behind her and he turned to Anders hastily. "I think they're here for you," he said.

Anders face drained of color. "They're going to execute me!"

"How many times did you escape from the Circle again?" Alistair asked thoughtfully.

"Seven," replied Anders weakly.

"Holy Maker!" Alistair's eyes widened in astonishment. "Well, they certainly won't be throwing you a tea party," he looked around for the Warden-Commander and found that she was nowhere in sight. "Come on, lets get down to the dungeon where Sidona probably is and we'll fix this. You may be an apostate but I don't think you necessarily deserve to die."

"Oh, thanks," Anders chuckled weakly and followed the ex-templar through the door to the dungeons as quickly as he could, to avoid being spotted by the Templars.

Once they reached the dungeons they found Sidona standing before the cell talking to the prisoner. "You're not making a very convincing case for yourself," she said to the dark haired fellow Alistair assumed was Nathaniel Howe.

"I could lie, if you prefer," Nathaniel folded his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes at her. "Look, I know your order saved us from the blight, to the victor goes the spoils, right?"

"What will you do if I just let you go?" she asked warily.

The question not only startled Alistair but the prisoner as well. Nathaniel scoffed at first and then scowled. "If you let me go, I'll just come back here. You might not catch me next time."

"You don't wish to redeem your family's honor?" she pressed.

"Oh certainly! I'll just go join Queen Anora's service right now. She'll surely want a Howe as a soldier," he bit out sarcastically.

Just then Sidona heard Alistair and Anders approach. She turned and smiled affectionately at Alistair and then regarded Anders with a friendly nod. "I see that Ser Pounce-a-lot has warmed up to you quickly."

Anders smiled sadly. "Yes, although it looks as though I'll have to leave him with you, after all."

Sidona's face turned worried. "What? Why? Are you leaving?"

"The Queen has shown up with some Templars. Though I am sure that Anora is here to see you, I don't think the Templars are here simply to say hello," Alistair commented dryly.

Sidona groaned. "Maker preserve us! Why is everything more complicated than it needs to be!" she turned a glare on Nathaniel. "I've decided what to do with you."

Nathaniel sighed heavily. "Good, finally I can stop waiting to die."

"You may yet have your chance," she smiled smugly. "Nathaniel Howe, I hereby conscript you into the Grey Wardens. The Maker have mercy on your soul."

"You can't do that!" he growled angrily.

"Oh, she very much can. I think its fitting, considering how much you and your father hate Grey Wardens," Alistair replied. He turned to Sidona and his voice and face softened. "What do you want to do about the Mage?"

"I have a name you know!" Anders muttered.

Sidona warred with her indecision for awhile. "He helped us, and he's not too terribly annoying. Do you not agree?" she asked. Her eyes conveyed her intent and he smiled.

"You want to conscript him too?" Alistair tilted his head. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," she said firmly.

Alistair turned his gaze on Anders. "As long as he knows that escaping from the Wardens is not an option, then I don't think I have a problem with it. Its not as if he's a blood mage."

"Anders?" Sidona's dark eyes settled on Anders awaiting his response.

"We get to travel a lot, right?" Anders asked hopefully.

"Too much," Alistair snorted.

"And I'll get to keep my cat?" he asked Sidona.

Sidona smiled. "Of course, when we're away he can stay at the Keep."

"Well, I guess that will work," Anders grinned happily.

Sidona's smile turned into a grin. "Wonderful, now...let us go up and upset some Templars, shall we?"

Anders grinned back evilly. "Oh, this I've got to see!"

Alistair had to agree. It was turning out to be quite the eventful day. "What about...you know..._him_?" He jerked his head in Nathaniel's direction.

Sidona eyed Nathaniel, "We'll deal with him after we get rid of the Templars, yes?"

Alistair and Anders agreed and they followed her as she made her way back up to the courtyard. Sidona made a beeline directly before Anora and sunk to one knee. Alistair, much to his discomfort followed suit along with Anders. Despite his dislike of the woman it wouldn't do to embarrass Sidona by acting like a child and sulking.

"My Queen," Sidona bowed her head from her kneeling position.

"You may rise," Anora's tone was pleased. "I see that the dark spawn have given you quite the welcome party. I'm sorry that I could not get here with my men in time to be of service."

Alistair bit back a retort. He knew damn well that she most likely waited until it was clear before coming to welcome the Wardens. She wouldn't put herself at risk that way.

"We are humbled that you thought to come and welcome us personally, Highness," Sidona replied when she was finally back on her feet. Anders and Alistair rose after she did and stood just behind her in a silent show of support.

Anora's eyes left the Commander and met those of her deceased husband's half-brother. "Alistair, it is a ...pleasant surprise to see you here. I thought you were traveling to Highever to put up a memorial for Duncan."

Alistair only just barely managed not to snarl at the woman for using Duncan's name. "Duty called me elsewhere, your Majesty."

Satisfied with that answer she turned her attention back to Sidona. "This is Knight-Commander Rylock," she gestured gracefully to the Templar woman at her side, who bowed to Sidona. "The Chantry has sent her to collect an apostate lurking in your midst."

"Apostate?" Sidona made a show of looking very surprised. "My Queen, there are no apostates here. The only Mage I have is a recruit I rescued from dark spawn. Poor boy," her smooth voice dripped with empathy, she gestured towards Anders with a pout on her lips. Anders quickly caught on and adopted a bedraggled posture. "The dark spawn ripped apart his Templar friends before his very eyes! He was so distraught that he killed quite a few of the monsters in retaliation. I can't begin to tell you how impressed I was with him. Without his help I don't think the Vigil would be standing right now!"

"This is an outrage!" the Templar Commander sputtered. "He couldn't have, Anders cares only for himself and I'm certain that he murdered those men in cold blood and used the dark spawn attack to cover his crimes! I will see you hanged for what you've done here!" she pointed a bony finger at Anders.

"Hanged?" Sidona clucked her tongue at the woman. "I do apologize, Commander Rylock. But that will be quite impossible, I'm afraid. I conscripted him only just this morning. If only you'd shown up yesterday..." the Warden Commander said with mock sympathy.

A snicker escaped from Alistair before he could contain it. He covered it well enough by feigning a coughing fit but he knew by the glare he was receiving from Anora that no one was fooled.

"You can't do this-," the Templar woman started to say only to be cut off by Anora who looked bored and a bit perturbed by how the conversation was going.

Sidona turned to Alistair with a puzzled expression. "Why does everyone tell me that?"

Alistair bit his tongue and offered her a shrug in reply.

"I believe that the Grey Wardens still retain the right of conscription. A _privilege _that I will allow, as my husband would have wanted," Anora firmly stated, ignoring the exchange between Sidona and Alistair..

The Knight-Commander's mouth which had been hanging open in shocked outrage shut with an audible snap. "If...it is your Majesty's wish," she said and then turned on her heel and returned to the rows of Templars that silently awaited her behind the Queen.

Anora let out a long suffering sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose. "I do apologize," she said. "That woman has been bothering me about your Mage for days. Honestly, I am glad that you've conscripted him," her large blue eyes drifted to Anders and her cheeks flushed when Anders regarded her appreciatively.

Alistair shook his head and watched as Anora conversed with Sidona for a few moments. By the end of the conversation he was amazed by how skilled the Warden Commander was at dealing with the Queen. Both women danced the dance of the nobility with skill and ease. With smiles that did not reach their eyes and carefully worded pleasantries that held more implications than their outward meaning conveyed. By the time it was over Anora had confessed to having some trouble with the Bannorn and that all her resources were needed there for the moment. She did promise to send some Denerim soldiers as soon as the unrest was dealt with. But until then, they were on their own. Sidona thanked her graciously and then just as abruptly as she arrived, the Queen of Ferelden left their presence, taking the Templars with her.

Only when she was out of sight did the two Wardens and their recruit let out a sigh of relief. Sidona turned to the two men with a scowl. "That could have gone better."

Alistair's eyebrows shot up. "I don't think it could have gone any better than that. Anora doesn't play well with others."

"I could tell," she commented and then her gaze settled on Anders. "It seemed as though she was quite taken with you, however, Anders."

Anders straightened with a smug expression. "I am irresistible, I will admit."

Alistair rolled his eyes. "More like incorrigible."

"Whatever the reason, she finds you attractive, that much was clear. Eventually, if your amenable to travel, I think I'd like you to go to the Grey Warden compound in Denerim. I have a feeling that we'll need eyes and ears there before long," she said thoughtfully.

Anders inclined his head. "As you wish, Commander."

_'If he survives the joining.' _Alistair thought to himself. He saw the expression on Sidona's face and knew that she was thinking the same thing.

She sighed heavily and then turned to Alistair with a grim expression. "Lets go retrieve Nathaniel and get their joinings over with. I'd like to get them over with before I have to deal with the nobility this evening."

Alistair nodded knowingly. It could very well be that he would end up in her sitting room again tonight, comforting her over two more deaths. And as much as he would enjoy holding her, the possible reason the privilege and the tears she would no doubt shed because of it, gave him a hollow feeling. He prayed to the Maker that both Anders and Nathaniel lived. If only so he didn't have to watch her cry.

* * *

**A/N: Really makes you wonder what the Imperial Court is like, yes?**


	6. Chapter 6

**The Awakening **

**A Dragon Age Fanfiction **

**By Bionca Femme**

**Chapter 5:**

* * *

Alistair, previous to that night, had never been to a formal banquet before. The Lady Isolde would not allow him to participate in such things whilst he was still the ward of Arl Eamon. In fact, the Arlessa went out of her way to make sure that barely anyone but the elven servants knew of his existence and even then, they mostly just saw to it that he was fed. Once in a while he would be given a large tub of freezing bathwater, but that was as far as her generosity traveled in his direction. Hence the reason that Bann Teagan remembered him most as the 'boy covered in mud'. If he were to re-examine his childhood, with his now more adult mind, he could admit that the Chantry did a far better job at raising him than Arl Eamon did. Even if they did try to turn him into a Lyrium addled zealot, he would learn manners and how to behave like a gentleman, instead of the ill-mannered wild creature that he was when Eamon fobbed him off on the Grand Cleric. So at the very least he could make it through one of these functions without doing something too embarrassing.

The ex-templar leaned his shoulder against one of the pillars in the throne-room and watched as Sidona flitted from noble to noble, charming them with her smile, her wit, and easy banter. She seemed quite at home amongst them and was equally gracious with all. Each one that she talked to was left with a puzzled smile on their face, as if they found her not quite as terrible as they thought she'd be and were confused by it.

Still if the Landsmeet and the adventures of the past year taught him nothing else, it was that one must always be vigilant when it came to those in power. Given half the chance, every one of the nobles now feasting and laughing with his Commander would turn on her, given the right motivation.

Sidona herself seemed to be having a wonderful time until she started conversing with a Knight to whom Alistair was introduced earlier that evening, Ser Tamra. Sidona came to the woman with a smile and a greeting and within minutes the happy smile turned into a stony visage. The warmth that was normally present in her demeanor was gone and seemingly with it, the warmth in the rest of the room. To Alistair it seemed that despite the near sweltering heat the throne-room had taken on with the blazing fire and the closely mingling bodies of the nobility, a chill permeated through to his very bones.

She nodded her thanks to the Knight, then turned on her heel and made straight for Varel. A few words with him and then the Seneschal nodded, his face pale. "Clear the hall! The Arlessa has business to take care of!"

The Nobles looked a little affronted at being shoved out like that, but it was getting quite late and the feast would have had to come to an end soon anyway.

When the last of the Nobles were gone, Alistair made his way up to the head of the room where Sidona was pacing like a caged animal.

"Just let them try and trap me!" she growled. "I survived the Imperial court, I can survive a few inept Ferelden nobles!"

Alistair stopped just short of the seething elven woman and he gave Varel a questioning look.

"Lady Sidona has just learned that there are nobles conspiring against her," Varel offered by way of explanation.

"Oh, well at least we know they're taking her position here seriously," Alistair replied.

Sidona kept on with her pacing, ignoring the two men completely. "Better men have tried and failed to take me down, they will not get away with this!" she seethed.

Alistair couldn't help the amusement that bubbled up at the sight of the tiny red haired elven woman pacing back and forth, frothing in rage. He quickly looked away before he said something that would earn him a black eye. "Varel, what course of action would you suggest?"

"Well, my Lord, we can't afford to alienate the nobility. We'll need them on our side if we expect to keep peace in the region. We could send some soldier's to spy on them, of course. Not that it would do any good. They're decent soldiers, lousy spies," Varel said apologetically.

Alistair rubbed his stubble-roughened chin for a bit in contemplation. "You know..." he started to say and then shook his head. He looked up and realized that both Varel and Sidona were staring at him expectantly.

"I was just thinking that Zevran was a Crow," Alistair explained with a shrug. "I doubt it will be terribly difficult for him to find out what's going on."

"Alistair!" Sidona's icy mask suddenly melted away. "You are a genius!"

"I am?" Alistair's eyebrows knitted together. "Well, that's a switch."

"Then I'll talk to Zevran in the morning, if that's acceptable to you, Commander?" Varel asked.

"Yes, thank you Varel. I'll be needing to take a look at the trade issue tomorrow. There is so much to do, I don't know if I could deal with an attempt on my life on top of all of it," Sidona's rage now spent, the weariness of the evening crept in to take its toll. She yawned.

"Come on, time for bed," Alistair offered her his arm and she took it with a chuckle.

"Good night, Varel," Sidona offered an apologetic smile to the Seneschal, as she was leaving him to deal with the remnants of the evenings festivities.

"Good-evening, my Lady," Varel bowed.

* * *

Alistair awoke the next morning to a pair of smiling dark brown eyes. "Good morning!" Sidona kissed him on the tip of his nose and then rose from the side of his bed to throw open the drapes in his room.

"Sidona? What are you doing here...in _my_ room?" he squinted as the sunlight rudely hit him in the face.

"Well, my sweet. You overslept and our fellow Wardens are waiting for you to get up and dressed so that we can go speak with a trader named Mervis in Amaranthine about the trading situation," she pulled out a drawer in his bureau and took out a pair of his undergarments and tossed them at him.

They landed on his face and when he removed them, his face was pink. "Look, I really like you...I mean _really_ like you. But you can't just come in here unannounced and start pawing through my unmentionables!"

"Unmentionables?" Sidona cooed. "Oh that's so cute! Has anyone ever told you how absolutely adorable you are?"

"Maker! What is wrong with you, woman?" he uttered rhetorically, then he realized that she was regarding him expectantly. "Are you at least going to leave while I change?"

"Why? Are you hiding something under there that I have not seen before?" she inquired with a suggestive glance towards where his bed linens covered his lower half.

Alistair narrowed his eyes at her. She was watching him, waiting for him to squirm until she'd had enough fun with him. Zevran was much the same. But Alistair had known the elf long enough to know that when pressed, even Zevran had a limit. He was betting that Sidona did as well. He endured four women at a Denerim brothel, in every position conceivable, and he was going to be damned if he'd let _this_ woman scare him silly.

"Alright, love. Have it your way," he replied. He got out of bed and ignoring her strangled protests, he whipped off his dirty set of small clothes and padded over to the wash basin, where he commenced washing his face and then took out his shaving things. He turned to regard her with a questioning gaze. "Did everyone eat already?"

Sidona shut her mouth abruptly and then averted her eyes, "No, that's where everyone is now."

"Well, I'll be a minute washing up, stay or go as you like," he said and then worked his shaving lather into a foam with the brush and dabbed it over his face before taking out his straight razor. Just as he was about to start cleaning the stubble from his face he heard the 'clink-clink-clink' of her armor as she made a beeline to the door. He waited until it shut behind her before he started laughing.

When he was finally dressed, armored and shaved, he headed down to breakfast where he found Zevran finishing up his own breakfast. He got his food and sat down next to the elf with a satisfying thud. "Morning," he grunted.

"Morning indeed! Whatever did you _do_ to that poor woman, Alistair?" Zevran asked.

"What woman?" Alistair asked, doing his best to play dumb.

"Our lovely Warden-Commander just tore through here muttering about something very large in your chambers," Zevran purred.

Alistair pinked. "She said...large?"

"She called it a 'monster' actually," Zevran clucked his tongue. "Now whatever could she be talking about?"

"I haven't the foggiest," Alistair kept his attention on his food.

"Mmm, well...it so happens that I have a job to do in Amaranthine today, my friend. So I will be accompanying you and the lovely Sidona on your trip today. Perhaps I will be able to wheedle it out of her, no?" Zevran dropped Alistair a wink as Alistair looked up at the elf with a mortified expression.

"Uh-," Alistair tried to think quickly, "Rats!"

"Rats?" Zevran asked curiously.

"Yes! Big giant Korcari rats! There was one upstairs, that's what she must have been talking about," Alistair replied quickly.

"Alistair, the Korcari Wilds are in the far south of Ferelden, we only have normal sized rodents in Amaranthine," Zevran narrowed his eyes at his human friend. "Might I remind you that I can tell when you're lying?"

"Why is it important for you to know?" Alistair whined.

"Because, I am your friend, yes? And friends tell each other all their _dirty_ secrets," Zevran replied.

"You haven't told me all of yours," Alistair pointed out.

"None of my secrets would surprise you, and thus are not very interesting. You, on the other hand, are very embarrassed about something. So I am interested," the elf smiled smugly. "I am not giving up, so you might as well tell me."

"Alright!" Alistair dropped his spoon into his porridge unceremoniously. "She woke me up and then she wouldn't leave so I could change. She wanted to see me squirm and beg her to leave, so instead I just...sort of...shaved naked in front of her?"

Zevran blinked and then threw his head back and laughed.

"Don't tell her I told you about it!" Alistair pleaded.

"Do not worry, I will not say anything. That would ruin the fun, no?" Zevran replied with a smirk.

* * *

Distraction is what gets most Grey Wardens killed, Alistair surmised. Distraction, or overwhelming odds. And with the taint buzzing angrily through his veins, they would be nearly upon a band of marauding dark spawn before they felt it. The ground below their feet must have an underground tunnel system, he theorized. It could be why the Keep was ambushed, he decided that he would ask Sidona if there were any tunnels below it. For now however, he tried to stay alert and listen for any signs of threat over Zevran's teasing chatter and Sidona's grunted responses.

"Come now, my dear Commander. Surely you can tell me about the very large thing that scared you in Alistair's room earlier? I am his friend, after all!" Zevran prodded for perhaps the one hundredth time since they began their journey.

"It was nothing, and, no, I will not talk about it. Its not really any of your business what goes on in Alistair's room when his door is closed, 'large' occurrences or not. Perhaps I was merely discussing his performance with him? It would be poor form for his Commander to discuss that with anyone else but him," she pointed out.

"Oh? Well you see, I already know a great deal about Alistair's performance. I myself am responsible for his education. I happen to know that Alistair was able to fully satisfy four different women of the professional variety the very night we had the pleasure of making your lovely acquaintance. I assure you, if you have questions about his performance, you will not be disappointed," Zevran purred out.

"Zev!" Alistair barked out. "Will you please drop it?"

Sidona whipped her head around to regard him with an intrigued expression. "Four?"

"Oh yes! Four very voluptuous and experienced women, absolutely spent by the time I finally dragged him back to our room. Sanga, the establishment's madam, told me that the next time I bring him by, she wouldn't even charge, marvelous, no? You see, the women are mostly there for the pleasure of others, it is not often that they get such an attentive patron, one that takes direction quite so well, nor one that has a stamina as 'monstrous' as our dear Alistair," Zevran said proudly. "It is likely you have already seen what he has to work with, yes? Perhaps that is the 'monstrous' thing you were muttering about this morning?"

"No," Sidona growled.

_'Maker, Please shut him up!' _Alistair pleaded silently.

"Oh? Pity. Maybe if we ask him nicely we can convince him to give us a demonstration," he turned around and grinned at Alistair while walking backwards. "What do you say my friend? Will you show us your...sword?"

Having had enough of the elf's mouth, Alistair drew his sword from its scabbard, "Sure...where do you want it?"

"Ohh, so testy," Zevran chuckled.

"Isn't anyone going to shut him up?" Nathaniel asked argumentatively.

"Be my guest," Alistair replied. He watched as Zevran, sensing a new victim, dropped back to harass Nathaniel instead. Seeing his opportunity he lengthened his strides until he was walking by the commander's side.

She made no acknowledgment of his presence so he cleared his throat. "Uh...sorry about him."

She shrugged. "He is Antivan, it is practically in his blood to tease a woman so."

"Are you...are you angry with me?" Alistair asked after a moment's silence.

"No," her tone had softened. "I am not angry with you."

"Then what's wrong?" he asked worried.

"Alistair, did you mean what you said this morning?" she asked suddenly changing the subject.

"I usually mean everything I say, unless I'm joking of course. Why? What did I say?"

"You said that you like me. Is that true?" she turned then and looked up at him with an indescribable emotion in her eyes.

Alistair felt his heart speed up. "Sidona, you know it is."

"Good," she said with a smile. "Then it's settled."

"What? What's settled?" Alistair blinked. "I didn't realize this was a debate, did I win?"

Sidona chuckled. "Maybe, _mon amour_."

"What does that mean?" Alistair asked.

Sidona only grinned archly. "You will see."

"That sounds distressingly familiar," Alistair replied.

* * *

Just after midday they arrived in Amaranthine to find the City gates heavily guarded and refugees camping just outside the walls. Sidona was not pleased, and considering the condition the refugees were in, Alistair couldn't blame her.

"They used to display the heads of traitors on these walls," Nathaniel commented. "I wonder if my Father's would have ended up there."

"Well, aren't you just a little ray of sunshine? I bet you're marvelous at parties!" Alistair bit out sarcastically.

Nathaniel didn't have a chance to retort because Sidona had marched up to the gate, intent on speaking to the Captain of the Guard and was stopped by the gate guard. "Sorry miss, I'm going to have to check your things," he held out his hands, barring her path.

"I am the Warden-Commander of Vigil's Keep," she stuffed her gauntlets onto her armored hips. Alistair almost expected her to stomp her foot.

"Commander or not, I still have to check. Smugglers have invaded the city you see-," the guard was cut off when his superior cuffed him on the back of the head.

"You idiot! Are you accusing the Commander of the Grey of smuggling?" the Captain barked out.

"I...no. You said-," he started to reply only to be interrupted again.

"I know what I said. Use your bleedin' common sense, man!" the Captain pointed to where the guard had been standing post. "Get back to your post!"

"Y-yes, Sir!" the man saluted and then scrambled back to his post.

"My apologies, Commander. The city is overrun with smugglers. We're doing our best to control the situation, but its become quite the chore with all the refugees piling up outside the city," he gestured towards the gates where even now, an elderly man was bellowing about being separated from his family.

"There are dark spawn ravaging the farmlands Captain, your gates will soon have more refugees than you can handle. Soon the smugglers will be the least of your concerns if you don't let these poor souls into the city!" Sidona glared at him and then took a calming breath before continuing. "Why haven't you taken care of the smuggler's?"

"Well, we tried, only they know our faces and we can't seem to get close enough to find out where they're hideout is," the Captain sighed theatrically.

Sidona's hum in response, sounding thoroughly unconvinced. "I'll see if I can't resolve this issue for you. After I get rid of them, I want the gates opened and the refugees directed to the chantry. Do I make myself clear?" she narrowed her eyes at the man.

"Absolutely, my Lady!" the Captain inclined his head.

The two Wardens and the Assassin followed the Warden-Commander down into the Market district. Once there Zevran clapped his hands together and rubbed his palms against one another. "Well, my friends. This is where we part ways, I shall catch up with you in a few hours, yes?" he directed this question to Sidona.

Sidona nodded. "Good luck, Monsieur Arainai."

"Ah, such a pleasure to hear such a lovely voice say my name. I shall return shortly, never fear," he bowed theatrically, earning a giggle from the Warden-Commander and a scowl from Alistair, before he disappeared into the crowd.

Nathaniel stepped up to Sidona's side, his bicep level with the top of her head as they both looked off into the crowd of the market. "My sister, Delilah, is now married to one of the merchants in the market here. Do you mind if I attempt to find her?"

Sidona looked up at him and nodded, "Remember, you no longer belong to yourself. Do not think to escape Nathaniel, neither the dark spawn nor I will let you."

Nathaniel bristled at the warning but nodded none-the-less, "I...understand Commander."

"Then go, give your sister my best," she said.

"Thank you," he replied and then he, too, disappeared into the crowd.

Sidona turned to regard Alistair with a very large and predatory grin that had him swallowing, hard. "Well, it seems its just you and me now, yes?"

Rather than answer Alistair took off one of his gauntlets and stepped into her space, he grasped her chin lightly between his thumb and forefinger and tilted her face upwards so that she was looking into his eyes. "Just you and me," he smiled, then leaned down and brushed his lips lightly over hers. He pulled back to gauge her reaction and found her eyes were still shut, her small pink tongue darted out and swiped over her lower lip and Alistair restrained himself from capturing her lips for a more heated encounter. Instead, he gently released her chin in favor of brushing his knuckles up over her cheek. "That...that wasn't too soon...was it?" he asked nervously.

"No. No, it was perfect," she hummed contentedly.

"Aww, now isn't that sweet?" a man's voice cut through their tender moment. "You know what would make it even sweeter? I've got some wine and a few trinkets, Sir. You won't find any better in the market. You wouldn't want anything less than the very best for the missus, now would you?"

Alistair and Sidona turned to look and watching them with his arms folded was a man in studded leather armor and armed with two daggers. The man's grin faded as he caught sight of their faces. "Hang on a minute, you're the ones my boys saw talking to the guards!" he exclaimed.

Alistair and Sidona exchanged a puzzled glance and when they turned back around the man was disappearing through the crowd. "You know, I think that was one of the smugglers," commented Alistair.

"Lets follow him," Sidona said and then took off after the man.

"Sidona, wait!" Alistair growled as she disappeared. He plunged into the crowd after her. She was smaller than he and thus navigated the sea of people much faster. On his way through he spied Nathaniel speaking with a dark haired woman that resembled him a bit. Alistair cut through a small group of shoppers and grabbed Nathaniel by the forearm. "Hello, you must be Delilah, I've heard so much about you! Hey, I've got to borrow old Nate here for a moment, do you mind?"

"Well, I-," Delilah stuttered. "No, I suppose not."

"Great!" he turned his attention back to the rogue in his grasp who opened his mouth to protest. "Commander, smugglers, trouble, as in NOW!" he growled.

Nathaniel's eyes widened and he nodded. Together they pushed their way through the throng of people and soon they found themselves pushing through to where people were gathered around what appeared to be a brawl. When they practically fell into the clearing, they found Sidona fending off three armed men and a mage. She saw them in her peripheral vision. "Alistair! Do something useful and Smite that Mage _salaud_!"

Alistair ignored the fact that he didn't know what '_salaud_' meant, he reached out with his templar abilities, and his arms threw themselves out wide, his own will pulling at that of the Mage. The surrounding air crackled and from above the warring energies rebounded on the Mage, stunning him and knocking him to the ground, sapping him of all his mana. Alistair pulled his sword and shield, "Go help her!" he ordered Nathaniel as he rushed forward to take care of the incapacitated Mage before he could recover and use a lyrium potion.

He dispatched the mage easily enough and he turned around in time to see Sidona run through the last of them with her sword and push them off again with a shove of her shield. The three Wardens looked up simultaneously at the smuggler who had run. He gave them a sheepish look, "Nothing personal, just business!" he said and then charged off into the crowd again.

"Come back here and die like a man!" Sidona screamed after him.

Alistair chuckled, "Come back here and die like a man?"

Sidona shrugged, "He's only delaying the inevitable."

"Where do you think he's gone?" Nathaniel interrupted impatiently.

Sidona followed the man's escape route. "That leads into the foreign quarter. Come," she gestured for them to follow her as she disappeared briefly into the crowd again and reappeared higher on the stone steps leading into the foreign quarter of the city.

The Smuggler led them throughout the city and into pockets of his minions, each had a mage and by the time they chased him out of the city and into a cottage on the outside of the city walls, Alistair thought he was going to collapse from the effort. The last time he had used his Templar abilities so often had been as he Wynne, Sten and Lyna had fought their way to the top of Fort Drakon.

He waited as Sidona talked to the Captain at the gate about the Smugglers hideout, with his hands clasping his knees and a stitch in his side.

"Are all Templars so easily winded?" Nathaniel asked snidely.

"You try running around in Plate Armor and sucking the mana out of all the Mages, it's not as easy as it looks you know," Alistair growled. He glanced at Nathaniel and noticed that he didn't look entirely convinced. "Anyway it's easy for you to say, you get to run around in a leather skirt!"

Nathaniel narrowed his eyes and then opened his mouth to retort when Sidona rejoined them with a scowl on her face. "Once, just once, I would like for people to solve their own problems. We found out where the smugglers are hiding, but can they go and clear them out themselves? Obviously they are too incompetent to even accomplish that much. When we re-garrison the Keep I am sending someone to replace that imbecile!" she fumed and then realized that Alistair was bent over trying to catch his breath. "Alistair, are you alright?"

Alistair straightened, "Yes, I'm fine. Just a little winded."

Sidona gave him a smile and then she stuffed her hand into the small pouch at her side. When she withdrew it she had a small vial with a red substance in it. "Here," she handed it to him.

He took it and looked at it quizzically, "What's this?"

"Something Anders calls a 'Stamina draught'," she replied and then gestured for him to drink it.

Alistair shrugged and raised the vial to his lips and threw his head back, swallowing the contents. It tasted vaguely like, "Cherries?"

Sidona laughed, "Anders seems to think that if it tastes better, we'll use it more often."

Alistair's face screwed up as the aftertaste hit his mouth. "Andraste's arse! I can see why!"

"A bit like old socks, isn't it?" Sidona chuckled.

"Commander," Nathaniel interrupted again. "I found this key on the last of the brigands," he said as he handed it to her.

"This is the key to the trap door we found?" she asked.

He nodded. "If I recall, directly under this part of the city is a hidden cove. It leads out into the Amaranthine Ocean."

"Come on, let us get this over with," Sidona muttered.

* * *

**A/N: Nate can be so moody! lol**

******Well I hope that this chapter doesn't seem too over the top. I'm debating on whether or not to actually follow the story line of the game or to go off on my own made-up quests. Let me know what you think.**

**A big thank you to Melismo for being very encouraging (and endlessly patient) whilst I fret needlessly, and as always for doing such a wonderful job as a beta.**


	7. Chapter 7

The Awakening

A Dragon Age Fanfiction

By Bionca Femme

Chapter 6:

* * *

Sidona held up her hand to signal the others to hold their position as she peered around the corner. They had made their way down into the secret passageway beneath the abandoned cottage and it wasn't long before they found the hidden underground cove. She smiled "Ah, good," she grinned and turned to Alistair, who eyed her quizzically.

"He's out there, along with four others. There is a mage," she locked eyes with Alistair. "Do you feel up to dealing with him?"

He nodded. "Oh sure, that cherry flavored swamp water did the trick. Don't worry about me."

She nodded, satisfied that he wasn't going to collapse from exhaustion in the middle of battle. "Bien, on the count of trois, yes?"

"On the count of what?" Alistair's eyebrows knitted together.

Nathaniel rolled his eyes. "That's Orlesian for three."

Alistair blushed, "Right, I knew that."

Nathaniel snorted and Sidona merely shook her head fondly. "Alright, on the count of three."

The two men nodded and quietly drew their weapons. "One," she said, drawing her own dragonbone sword and Warden heavy shield. "Two…" she bent her knees, readying herself for the sprint. "…three!"

The three launched themselves out into the openness of the cave, both Sidona and Alistair letting out loud fearsome warcries. Nathaniel took up position on the stairs leading up to some storage.

The two warriors met with snarling resistance but neither were phased by the animosity that the smugglers displayed in their attacks. The Dark Spawn were evil incarnate, after all.

The battle was quickly over and Sidona stood over the prone figure of the man that had led them on a merry chase through the city. Her boot was planted firmly on the man's chest, and she watched for a while with amusement as he struggled vainly to squirm out from underneath her. Finally he gave up fighting and decided that he would start bargaining. "You seem like an intelligent woman, Warden-Commander. You know an opportunity when you see one, am I right?" he tried to turn a dazzling smile on her but the effect was ruined by his bad teeth.

"I am an intelligent woman," she replied. "At least intelligent enough to know, how do you say, _bullshit_, when I hear it." She heard Alistair snicker and she wondered if she pronounced it wrong. By the look on the smugglers face, however, it seemed he at least understood what she was trying to say.

"Listen," he stammered out hastily. "You just let me go and I promise I'll leave Amaranthine."

Sidona narrowed her eyes at the wretch. "And why did you not offer this to me before now? Instead of throwing many of your men in my path to be slaughtered. Those men's deaths could have been avoided," she growled and then ground her heel into his rib, making him groan in pain.

"I'm sorry! I am!" he wailed.

"Oh, if only all problems in this world could be fixed by those few simple words, ah? If only it were so easy to go to those men's wives and children and say, 'I killed your husband and father, but I am sorry.' What an uncomplicated world this would be, no?" she mocked. "But," she sighed theatrically. "Never let it be said that I am a Warden-Commander without mercy. I am turning you over to the authorities," she said with a frown. Obviously preferring to kill him but not being able to see any practical reason to, other than personal enjoyment.

"But, they'll hang me!" he whimpered.

"Then start praying, for only the Maker has any mercy for you now," she replied and removed her boot from his chest. She gave Alistair a nod and he bent down and hauled the man to his feet. By then Nathaniel had joined them and Sidona tilted her head towards the exit her eyes never leaving the smuggler. "You first, and slowly," her voice lowered in deadly warning.

The man took two steps and then he burst into a run towards the dock, obviously meaning to dive into the water and disappear out into the cove. None of them, with the exception of Nathaniel could have jumped in after him as both Sidona and Alistair wore plate armor. "Nathaniel," Sidona spoke in an even tone of voice, "take him down."

Before the man hit the water one of Nathaniel's arrows pierced him through the heart. The three of them stood there for awhile, watching the body of the smuggler bob up and down before finally sinking beneath the surface of the dark sea water.

"Imbecile," Sidona muttered.

"Oh, I don't know. Death by hanging or death by running for freedom," Alistair replied with a shrug. "Its quite an interesting choice don't you think? Death or…oh, more death!"

Nathaniel shook his head. "He would have hanged publicly. Maybe he had family here and didn't want them to witness his shame."

Neither Alistair nor Sidona had anything to say to that. There was a faraway look to the Rogue's eyes and Alistair could only surmise that the man was thinking of his Father. Alistair kindly refrained from pointing out that Lyna had at least not executed Nathaniel's father in public. Not like she had Teryn Loghain.

"Well, now that we have this all taken care of, let's cheerfully loot their bodies and then go find out where our Antivan Crow went," Sidona suggested.

"Sounds good to me. Knowing Zevran he's either found trouble or trouble has found him," Alistair gave her a lopsided smile.

They went through the pockets of the smugglers, taking money, jewelry and any valuable weaponry that they could find. Alistair found a lock-picking kit and immediately handed it over to Nathaniel.

"You're giving this to me?" Nathaniel looked at him with some surprise.

"Yes, why? Do you have one already?" Alistair asked distractedly as he rifled through the last smugglers pockets.

"No, I just would have thought you'd give it to your elf friend," Nathaniel pointed out, his confusion made his face even more pinched looking that usual.

Alistair stuffed the handful of silvers he found into his money pouch and then craned his neck to look at Nathaniel. "Well, as much as he proclaims to be highly skilled, he still has trouble with lock-picking. Lyna and Leliana were much better at it than he was. So he stuck to poisons and traps. He's much better at disarming traps than setting traps though."

"Oh," Nathaniel replied and then tucked the kit into a pocket. "My thanks."

Alistair stood and clapped the slighter man on the back, rather harder than he meant to. "I'm glad you like it, Nate."

Alistair left Nathaniel to join Sidona where she was looking over the smuggled goods near the dock. "Its nice to see you two getting along," she grinned at him cheekily.

"Who? Me and Nate?" Alistair asked.

Sidona's eyebrows shot up. "Nate?"

Alistair laughed. "I don't think he likes it much. I guess its my way of getting under his skin."

"Still," Sidona smiled at him affectionately. "I am glad that you gave him that kit. He needs us to reach out to him. I would hate for him to feel like an outsider. There is much that he has suffered and though it is his Father's fault, he is having trouble facing that."

"I wonder what kind of Father Rendon Howe was?" Alistair said thoughtfully as he glanced back at Nathaniel who was going through the contents of a crate.

* * *

They emerged through a different secret trapdoor, this one surprisingly opened out into a backroom of the Crown and Lion, an Inn as old as the city itself. Some say that the city itself was built around it and the Inn was built along the Pilgrim's Path centuries ago. Even more surprising to the three companions was the fact that standing at the bar and haggling with the Dwarven bartender was Zevran.

"Ninety-three sovereigns!" exclaimed Zevran. "Oh, I see. This is a joke, you are playing with me, surely. I was not aware that dwarves possessed such wit! It must be a surface dwarf thing, yes?"

"You heard right, ninety-three sovereign and not a copper less!" the Dwarf replied with a sniff.

Zevran lifted an eyebrow at the Dwarf, "Well then, you won't be parting with it today my friend. I happen to be good friends with Master Wade. I could merely describe the dagger to him and he could make me one of twice the quality."

At the mention of Master Wade the Dwarf's face colored. "Ain't no human can make you anything better than this dagger. This blade was made by the Paragon Branka herself!"

Zevran responded with an amused snort. "Oh? Is this after or before she enslaved some of your people on the Anvil of the Void? Rumor has it that she's gone quite mad," he purred out.

"Why you-," the Dwarf started to retort angrily but Zev held up his hand.

"Now, I would be willing to part with maybe…ohh, ten sovereign. It really is a decent blade. Not the best I've ever seen, but quite handsome," he offered.

"Ten? Ten?" the Dwarf growled. "I may be a dwarf but I can't live on the stone alone! Seventy!" he countered.

"You mean the dwarves don't just simply spring out of the stone like miniature golems? Twenty sovereigns!" Zevran counter-offered.

"No, we got Mothers the same as you, you swooshy arrogant prig! Fifty Soveriegn!" the Dwarf shook his fist at the elf.

This went on for another fifteen minutes or so as the companions looked on with awe. When it was over, Zevran had managed to walk away with a fine volcanic wrought dagger for only thirty-five sovereign. He joined them with a devilish grin on his face. "Well, that was invigorating," he said.

"You're a public menace," Nathaniel said before either Sidona or Alistair could close their mouths from the shock of what just transpired.

Zevran tilted his head to the side with a look of interest on his face. "Intriguingly enough, you are not the first to tell me that," he said thoughtfully.

Sidona shook her head and then looped her arm through Alistair's. "Well Zevran, if you have taken care of all your business then we can go speak to the merchant and then the Captain. I cannot wait to leave this city."

Zevran nodded. "Indeed, I will give a full report once we return. If, that is alright with you, my dear."

* * *

They left the city almost near nightfall, the refugees thanking her profusely as they filed in through the gates. They were an hour outside of the city by the time they made camp. Which was fine with Alistair, somehow even though he missed his bed at the Vigil, making camp had become a familiar practice and the act strangely set him at ease. He even managed to get out of cooking as Sidona insisted that she make the evening meal. Which turned out to be roasted rabbit and wild onions, it was actually quite delicious. With full bellies they decided to turn in early and they drew straws for first watch. He and Sidona, coincidentally enough, ended up on first watch.

"So, when are you going to tell me about your past, Alistair?" Sidona asked once Nathaniel and Zevran were sleeping in their tents.

"Well, there's not much to tell, really," he looked up at her from where he was cleaning his armor. They were both clad in a shirt and trousers now, but their weapons were nearby.

"I have difficulty believing that," she replied. "However, I understand if you are not ready, mon cher."

"Mmm, alright, I will tell you. But you have to tell me what 'mon cher' means and why you keep calling me that," he answered with a grin.

She grinned back. "It means 'my dear'."

Alistair blushed. "Oh."

"Does it not please you that I think of you so? Would you rather I did not call you that?" she asked worriedly.

"Oh no…its not that," he laughed nervously. "I just…wow! I mean, no one has ever really spoken to me like that before. The only people who ever really cared about me were Duncan and Lyna and well, you know…"

One of her eyebrows lifted, "Alistair, have you never had a sweetheart?"

He shook his head, "I grew up in a Chantry, it wasn't exactly a life for rambunctious boys. I mean, if I had become a Templar, I would have remained Celibate. Its why the Chantry starts training its Templars from a young age. Innocence is easier to control."

Sidona frowned. "But it is not their only method of control, no?"

"Oh, you mean Lyrium?" Alistair replied and with her nod he cleared his throat. "Well, yes. The chantry does control the Lyrium trade. Though Lyrium isn't necessary to use Templar's talents, they just say it makes it easier. Though I never got hooked on it, lucky me."

"Lucky for us all," she smiled sadly. "I don't know what we'd do if you ran out. Though it seems that Anders always seems to have an ample supply," she murmured thoughtfully to herself. "So the Chantry was…lonely for you?"

Alistair set his breast plate down and picked up a greave. "I guess it was, when I took the time to think about it. Mostly though I think I felt abandoned. I suppose you know that I was raised by Arl Eamon?"

"Yes, that is what the Bard's say. You are the bastard Prince. Prince Alistair the Brave. Come from the ranks of the Grey Wardens along with the Dalish Hero of Ferelden to save Thedas from the Archdemon. That even when offered the throne of your Father you refused, deciding instead to bare arms against the darkspawn and save your people by staying a Grey Warden," she reiterated the tale with a grin.

"Maker's breath!" Alistair exclaimed. "I didn't take the throne because I didn't want it!"

"No?" her eyebrows shot up. "Many people would like being King, even for a day."

"Well, I suppose I am not many people, then. Eamon, Isolde, even Teagan spent a lot of time telling me that I would never take the throne and that I was a bastard child. I wasn't even worthy enough to sleep in the castle with everyone else. I got put in the stable," Alistair growled.

"Oh, Alistair!" Sidona's eyes grew sad and she got up from her seat and sat down next to him. She leaned her head upon his shoulder. "What an awful thing to do to a child!"

Alistair shrugged careful not to jostle her head too much. "It was mostly the Arlessa's doing. She resented me because of the rumors that I was Eamon's bastard instead of Maric's. Though if they had waited until I'd gotten older they would have seen how closely I resembled Cailan and Maric."

"No wonder," Sidona said sadly.

"No wonder what?" he turned to face her.

Sidona didn't reply, instead she laid her hand against his cheek. "Alistair?" she asked.

Alistair had let his eyes slide shut as he leaned into her touch, her warm hand felt good on his cheek. "Yes?"

"Kiss me," she whispered huskily.

"As my Lady commands," he whispered back and he pushed the greave off his lap and replaced it with the elven woman in his arms. His lips found hers and one of his hands buried itself in the silken mass of her fiery red hair. She moaned against his lips, her mouth opening slightly and he used this to his advantage, snaking his tongue past her lips and tentatively stroking hers. Her hand had found its own way into the hair at the base of his neck and as he plundered her mouth her fingers flexed, scraping her nails over his skin and grasping his hair firmly. He growled in response and pulled her tighter against him. As a result her breasts pressed against him, she felt soft in his arms and Maker was she ever warm against him. He slid his hands under the back of her shirt and up the line of her spine and realized that she was not wearing a breast-band. His already reacting body went into over drive and the tingling feeling that was racing throughout his whole body suddenly became an ache and centered in one particular spot. It was all he could do to restrain himself from grinding himself against her bottom, which was squirming strategically in his lap. He pulled out of their heated kiss and leaned his forehead against hers. "I…_Maker_…we need to stop," he hissed as she wiggled against him and poked her lower lip out. "And you definitely need to stop wiggling."

"What if I don't want to stop," she purred. "What if I want you to take me, right here?" she wiggled again.

Alistair groaned. "You are an evil woman," he replied and both of his hands grasped her hips and held her firmly in place, causing her to growl in frustration. "I want you, I do. Just…not here."

She sighed unhappily, "Why not?"

Alistair chuckled and kissed her forehead tenderly. "Because if I know Zevran he's awake and listening to us, and I don't want to share this with anyone else."

"Spoil-sport!" Zevran shouted from his tent. "If you aren't going to be entertaining, at least do me the courtesy of being quiet," he grumbled.

Alistair and Sidona looked at each other and then Sidona started giggling uncontrollably. Alistair watched her with an affectionate smile. One that she kissed after she was done laughing. "Alright, mon cher. We will wait until we are back at the Keep, but then you are all mine."

Alistair chuckled, "Yes, my Lady."

She removed herself carefully from his lap which he mentally thanked her for. One more wiggle would have been his undoing and he would have taken her right there, just as she had asked him to.

He looked at her and his heart ached along with his nether region. She was beautiful when she was disheveled from his attentions. He took her hand in his and kissed her palm, not missing the way her eyes slid closed and she shivered. "Maker's breath but you're beautiful, I am a lucky man."

Her cheeks colored and she smiled at him. "I think I am the lucky one."

He squeezed her hand gently and then released it and picked the greave back up from where he'd discarded it. He attacked it with determination and the cloth he'd been using, hoping, but knowing it was no use, that his arousal would go away quickly.

* * *

"_Alistair!" a feminine shout from behind him made him turn from the view of Redcliffe Castle. He'd come there after the battle, waiting for Bann Teagan to come and speak with them. He'd been glad that he had gotten there ahead of everyone else. It gave him some time to reflect, to steel himself to face Isolde __again…and Eamon. When he managed to get all the way turned around, he found blue eyes, pointy ears and the ever present half smile of his fellow warden staring back at him. "Hey," he greeted._

"_Lethallin," Lyna's head canted to the side, as if she were a mabari observing him with curiosity. "Why did you not wait for me? Are you alrigh?"_

"_Yes," he said immediately and then watched as one of her blond eyebrows lifted upwards in that way that suggested that she knew that he was lying. "Well…no," he admitted."_

"_Is this about what you told me before? About the Arl raising you?" she asked. When she received a shrug coupled with an embarrassed shuffle she sighed. "Would you rather go back to camp and let me handle them?"_

_He shook his head. "No, I owe it to the Arl to make sure he's ok."_

"_Alistair, you owe them nothing," she replied bluntly._

"_What? No, I owe him everything!" he narrowed his eyes at her. "He raised me, he didn't have to. He put food in my mouth and clothes on my back and…and…" he trailed off._

"_He made you sleep in the stable and let his bitch of a wife treat you like trash until he finally got sick of her nagging and he dumped you on the Chantry's doorstep where they intended to turn you into a Lyrium addicted bully," she finished for him._

_He flinched, "Ok, I see your point."_

"_Alistair, all your life these people have tried to tell you who you are. You yourself told me how happy you were when Duncan conscripted you. These people will only use you to their own ends, they care nothing for you. If they had, they would not have discarded you so. The Dalish would never do that to a member of the Clan. I was orphaned at a young age and the entire village raised me like I was their own. Don't let them make you feel grateful to them for wronging you," she finished by pulling him into a hug._

_Alistair felt his eyes sting and he wrapped his arms around her tightly. "Your parents are dead too?" he felt a little ashamed. All this time he had acted as though he was the only one._

_He felt her chuckle. "That whole speech and that's what you get out of it?" she pulled out of the embrace and ruffled his hair. "Honestly, little brother. What am I going to do with you?"_

_Alistair's eyes widened, "Brother?"_

"_I have no clan, no home to go back to. My home is with the Grey Wardens now, with you. But I tell you this truly, I would have adopted you anyway," she ruffled his hair fondly._

_He jerked his head away from her hand and fixed her with an affronted scowl before fixing his hair. "Why am I the little brother, then? I'm almost twice your size!" _

"_I'm older than you," she replied with a triumphant grin._

"_By three months!" he laughed. Then the entire conversation sunk in for him and he was again hit with a sense of awe. "Thanks, I really needed that. And you don't know how happy it makes me to know that I have family again. After Duncan…I just felt so lost. I'm so grateful that you're…well, you."_

_Before Lyna could reply, they were joined by Teagan who then proceeded to tell them about a secret passage located below the mill._

Alistair awoke to find that it was near morning and somehow in the middle of the night, Sidona had managed to sneak into his tent and crawl into his bedroll with him. He shifted slightly and lifted the blanket to find that she'd also slipped into his spare tunic and had one arm and one leg draped over him. He replaced the blanket over them both and tightened his arms around her, chuckling as she mumbled incoherently and burrowed further into the crook of his arm. He kissed the top of her head. "My home is Amaranthine, now. With you," his whispered gently.

* * *

**A/N: And on the count of three, ready? One, two...three! "Aww!" Alistair can be quite a sweetheart can't he?**

**I'm sorry that its taken me so long to get anything out to you. I had some terrible things happen to my computer and long story short, it died.**

**Along with all of my files! Grrr. But I worked all weekend and on the tainted Knight and this story between two laptops and I think that I can safely say that I'll have a few more chapters of The Tainted Knight out to you soon, (for those of you following that story)**

**Thank you, Melismo, for enduring the four chapters I clobbered you with. =)**


	8. Chapter 8

The Awakening

**A Dragon Age Fanfiction**

**By Bionca Femme**

**Chapter 7: **

* * *

Sidona awoke to the sounds of clanking cooking utensils and the smell of bacon. She blinked blearily and groaned as she realized it was morning and did what she usually did when she first wakes up, she drew the blanket over her head and buried her face into her pillow. But her pillow chuckled and rolled over so that her nose met with a broad chest.

She froze momentarily until she heard Alistair laugh softly. "Good Morning," he said affectionately.

"_Non, il n'est pas matin_." She slid her arms around him and snuggled up to him, eliciting another laugh.

"I didn't understand a word of that, but we have to get up at some point, you know," he said fondly.

"Who says such things?" she demanded with mock-irritation. "I'm the Commander, and I say we stay right here for the remainder of the day!" her stomach responded with a growl.

"I think your appetite disagrees with you," Alistair teased.

Sidona sighed theatrically. "Oh, the burden of a tainted stomach!" she giggled. "Though it seems that your elven friend managed to barter for more than just a dagger yesterday. I smell breakfast!" she pulled out of Alistair's arms and sat up, grabbing her trousers from nearby.

Alistair sat up as well and watched as she shimmied into her pants underneath the blankets. "You look nice in my shirt," he commented.

She lifted an eyebrow at him and then looked down at the shirt that she was swimming in. She laughed, "It was comfortable." She drew it up over her head and tossed it at him, before grabbing her own and slipping it back on. When she was done she found Alistair gaping at her. "What?"

His cheeks reddened, "Um, heh…well I didn't expect you to just, you know, and…you weren't wearing anything under it and I…" he averted his eyes as if he'd seen something he shouldn't have.

"Enjoyed the view?" she finished for him with a hint of hopefulness in her voice.

He turned back to her suddenly and pulled her into his arms. "Maker, did I ever!" he exclaimed with a grin and then he kissed her.

"Consider it payback for yesterday," she said with a grin when the kiss broke.

* * *

The Pilgrims path lay before them that morning, oddly devoid of travelers. Though Alistair thought that might be more from the threat of being overtaken by dark spawn than any other reason. However, from what they had learned from the merchant, there was also a whole lot of bandits that were ambushing the Caravans.

"There once was a woman who lived in the sea," Zevran said suddenly, breaking up the nice silent morning they had so far on the road.

Alistair groaned. "Maker's breath!"

Sidona giggled, seeming to know what was coming.

Nathaniel raised a dark brow at the Antivan Crow, who smiled and waggled his own at the other rogue before continuing. "I didn't love her but I think she loved me. I brought her diamonds, rubies, silver and gold, but all she wanted was to be saved from the cold."

Alistair shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Zevran grinned and continued, "She asked me to catch her, convinced me I should. I built her a house, all gray stone and wood. We made love in the sea, we made love on the shore. I was just there for playing, but she wanted more."

Nathaniel by this time had dropped back to walk beside Zevran and Alistair had caught up to Sidona, hoping that he would some how not have to listen to the undoubtedly outrageous thing that was going to come out of the Antivan's mouth.

"There's just one problem you see, I can't grant her wish, my wife gets suspicious when I come home smelling like fish!" Zevran finished.

There was a loud unexpected guffaw from Nathaniel and Sidona and Alistair turned to find Nathaniel laughing a full belly laugh, and Zevran chuckling, obviously enjoying the fact that he'd made _someone_ laugh. Soon Nathaniel's laughter became infectious and Alistair and Sidona were laughing as well.

Their brief moment of levity was short lived, however, as an arrow came flying out of nowhere and embedded itself in the dirt inches away from Alistair's heel.

"Brigands!" Sidona growled and unsheathed her weapons.

Alistair's eyes snapped up from the arrow embedded in the dirt near his foot and found that they were being charged by several expensively armed men.

"Not brigands, my dear Commander," Zevran replied, slightly amused. "Antivan Crows. For such a formidable woman, only the best!"

Sidona chuckled darkly, "You'll forgive me if I wait until later to feel flattered, yes?"

Zevran did not get a chance to answer her as the first of the crows had reached them. Zevran strode forward to meet the man first. Alistair only had a moment to appreciate the mastery with which the two men dueled before he was set upon by his own attacker.

Zevran whirled and parried, deflecting the lithe man's attacks easily. He took a step back and a swipe meant for his throat passed just before his nose, leaving a sickly sweet smell behind in its wake. Zevran's eyes widened. "Soldier's bane! They are using soldier's bane on their daggers!"

There was a feminine cry of rage and as Alistair caved in the skull of his attacker with the edge of his shield, he turned his attention towards Sidona who was sunk to one knee and deflecting blows with her own shield, there was blood seeping through a seam in her left grieve. Alistair watched as Zevran finished off his own Crow and headed off to take out the last melee fighters. There were still two archer's and they were aiming right for him.

"Nate!" Alistair barked out. "Get those arrow slinging bastard's!" he snarled and then charged the Crow attacking Sidona.

The battle was over quickly and soon Alistair was helping Sidona to the ground and taking off her plate armor. "Zev!" he called out to the Antivan desperately as Sidona slumped in his arms in exhaustion.

Zevran trotted over and sunk to his knees at Alistair's side. Together they managed to pull off the greave and Zevran wiped at a patch of blood on the inside of her trouser leg where the dagger had nicked her. He held the blood up to his nose and the same sickly sweet smell mingled with the coppery smell of blood filled his nostrils. He wiped off his hand and then he rummaged through his pack and brought forth a small vial with a pearly white substance in it. "Expose the wound," he instructed Alistair.

Alistair did as he was bade and ripped open the pant leg from knee to crotch and watched helplessly as Zevran poured the substance into the wound, then he got out some bandages and wrapped the leg. Sidona's head had fallen against Alistair's chest and he held her tightly. "What's wrong with her?" he asked fearfully.

"Worry not, my friend. I have given her the antidote, it should be chasing the poison through her veins now. Though, she will be exhausted. That is the main purpose of the poison, to weaken, to make her vulnerable. She was already losing stamina when the blade cut her, she's just passed out. A particularly nasty side effect, however, is that it also weakens the immune system. We'll have to get her back to the Vigil, quickly, so that Anders can close that wound. She'll be susceptible to infection if she doesn't get healing soon."

Alistair nodded mutely and then started to undo the straps on her armor.

"What are you doing?" Nathaniel knelt by his side and laid a hand on Alistair's forearm.

Alistair yanked his arm out of Nathaniel's grasp. "I can't carry her unless we get all this armor off."

"We'll make a litter, Alistair. You don't need to carry her," Nathaniel replied.

Alistair ignored him and finished getting the armor off her, then he picked her up gently in his arms, regretting that he couldn't feel her warmth through his plate armor. With her armor off she seemed so small, the sight of her so helpless made him angry. "Just watch my back," he growled.

Nathaniel nodded in reply and looked to Zevran for help. Zevran only shook his head and snatched up the discarded bits off armor off the ground, then they followed after.

* * *

Anders stood in the doorway of the Commander's bedroom, watching as Alistair's head drooped for the third time since he'd found him still sitting at the edge of Sidona's bed clutching her hand in his own with and expectant look on his face.

"Alistair," Anders called out softly into the the soft firelight of her room. "She's going to be alright, you know. Our fearless leader just needs some rest. It might be best if you got some sleep yourself."

"I'm fine," Alistair waved his hand dismissively and then yawned.

Anders chuckled. "Riiiight, and who do you think she'll blame if you aren't well rested and ready to kick some dark spawn backside when she wakes up? Me, that's who!"

Alistair chuckled. "She'll really be ok?" he looked up at Anders after a moment.

Anders felt the old familiar sting of being mistrusted prickle inside him. "Look, I know I'm an apostate and everything but we're not all maleficarum, you know! If I say she'll be fine, I _mean_ she'll be fine."

Alistair's eyes widened. "I didn't mean to imply...I'm sorry Anders."

Anders felt immediately ashamed. "No, no. _I'm_ sorry. Its just that...I'm used to people having a certain opinion of me... being an escaped Mage and all."

Alistair nodded. "I think I can understand how you feel."

Anders couldn't help the scoffing noise. "No, I'm quite sure you wouldn't know how it feels to be an apostate."

Alistiar chuckled. "I meant that I know how it feels to be stuck somewhere I didn't want to be, with my fate already decided for me and no one at all willing to give me a choice about it."

"Oh," Anders said. "You know," he said thoughtfully as he looked down at the sleeping form of the Commander. "she really saved me. I mean, more than just from the Templars and death and all that. I mean that I've been escaping so long that I didn't realize that I wouldn't know what to do with freedom even if I had it. Being a Grey Warden is actually tolerable. I get to shoot lightning at fools, I've got a cat, and I can spend my off hours however I like without having to worry about the Templars breathing down my neck. This is the most freedom I've had since I was a teenager, really."

Alistair nodded and then went back to staring down at Sidona.

Anders sighed heavily. "You really don't intend to leave her side until she wakes up, do you?"

"No," was the reply he received.

"Well then at least try and get comfortable," Anders ordered and then turned on his heel, leaving Alistair with Sidona.

Once he was gone, Alistair started nodding off again and when his head hand fallen onto her arm for the fourth time he decided that perhaps Anders was right. Although, rather than leave and go to his own room he merely took off his boots and climbed up onto the bed. He laid back on the pillows and watched the firelight dance on her golden skin and glint brilliantly off her red-hair, slowly his eyes slid closed and he drifted off into the fade.

* * *

_The sky overhead was a sickly green and the blackened ground trembled beneath Alistair's feet. He whirled around, taking in the twisted landscape that surrounded him on all sides, the dirt and rocks crunched beneath his boot heels with an odd sound that had him looking down at his feet. He immediately jumped back with a startled yelp as he realized that he was standing on the shattered remnants of a skull. He sank down onto his haunches and looked at the bones and came to the conclusion that they were, in fact, human. He frowned and stood up again, his eyes scanned the terrain and he spotted a hill that he could climb for a better vantage point. _

_As he neared the top the sky on the other side of the hill bled from green to orange stained with black wisps of clouds and it was only when he reached the top of the hill that he realized that the clouds were made of smoke. The orange glow was the city below on fire._

_He could hear women and children screaming and he started forward, intending on trying to save someone, anyone. When a hand set itself down on his shoulder. He turned to find Lyna's blue eyes staring back at him. "Lyn?"_

"_You must stop them Lethallin," she said, her face was grim and smudged with dirt and blood, as was the rest of her. Though none of it seemed to be hers, she looked exactly as she had on top of Fort Drakon, battle weary and pale. "Before it is too late."_

"_Stop who?" he asked, grasping at her hand._

"_Find the source, Alistair. Kill them all," she said and she seemed to move away from him and he tried to hold tighter onto her but her fingers seemed slippery._

"_Lyn! Wait! I don't understand, please!" he cried out as she faded from view. "Lyn!"_

"Lyn!" he cried out and struggled against hands that were pressing him into the the mattress. _Mattress?_ He stopped struggling and opened his eyes, finding not Lyna's blue eyes, but Sidona's worried dark brown ones staring down at him. "Sidona?" he blinked.

She lifted an eyebrow, "You were expecting to maybe wake up next to Zevran?"

He laughed in relief then he pulled her down into his arms, "Are you alright? How are you feeling?"

"I am as well as can be expected," she admitted. "The Crow's reputation is well deserved," she winced as she moved her leg.

He kissed the top of her head. "Well, I know you're my Commander and everything, but as the man who is courting you, I demand you stay away from poisoned blades. Maker's breath you had me worried!" he said softly.

She laughed softly, "You were worried? How do you think I felt waking up to a screaming man in my bed, mmm?"

"Nightmare," Alistair said by way of explanation.

"I could tell," she toyed with a button on his shirt. "It was about your friend, yes? Lyna?"

"Yes, I think...she was trying to tell me something," he replied. "She said that I needed to find the source and kill them all. I can only imagine that she meant dark spawn."

"The source?" she propped herself up on her elbow next to him so that she could look down at his face. "Dark spawn come from broodmothers."

"I know, I don't know what she means," he frowned. "Maybe there is an original source? Something that started it all?"

Sidona shook her head. "The chant of light says that the dark spawn came from evil mages that tried to take over the golden city."

Alistair couldn't help the bitter laugh, "You know the Chantry says a lot of things, many of which aren't entirely true."

Sidona inclined her head, acknowledging that he had a point. "I don't know that we could find a source, even if one existed."

"I know that it may sound crazy, but, if Lyna crossed the veil and found out the truth, it would be entirely like her to find a way of letting me know. She was very strong-willed," he replied thoughtfully.

"Alistair?" she asked after a moment.

"Yes, love?" he replied.

"You said something about...courting?" her eyes searched his and when they crinkled at the sides and his lips lifted in a smile, she couldn't help but smile back.

"Finally caught on to that, did you?" he teased and then chuckled when she smacked him lightly on the chest.

"So, we are courting then?" she looked away from his face, her own cheeks flushed and she fiddled with one of his shirt buttons.

Alistair grasped her chin lightly and tilted her head back up so that he could look into her eyes, "I would love nothing more, if you would do me the honor."

"I would like that, very much," she smiled. Then the button she had been fiddling with came undone. "Oh, how silly of me! Here, let me fix it," and instead of fixing it she undid another one.

He laughed, "What are you doing?"

"I'm sure I do not know what you are talking about," she batted her eyelashes at him and then another button came undone.

Just then there was a knock on your door and before either of them could say anything Anders burst into the room. "Decent or not here I come!" he said cheerfully, laughing when he saw the commander lying half on top of Alistair with her hand attached to his half-unbuttoned shirt. "Oooh, I guess I'm just in time for the 'or not'!" he chuckled and then ducked the pillow that Alistair threw at him.

* * *

**A/N: **

**Me: {Glares at Anders in irritation} You just _had_ to get right in the middle of it, didn't you?**

**Anders:{grins} That's what she said!**

**Me: {facepalm}**

**I hope that you've enjoyed this chapter. Right now I am working on "Witches and Mirrors". I've done a One shot that is the prelude to it that I'm including in "Blight Tales", it is the second chapter. The actual fic is going to be posted sometime near the end of this story.**

**Thank you to Melismo for helping me out on this!**


	9. Chapter 9

**The Awakening**

**A Dragon Age Fanfiction **

**By Bionca Femme**

**Chapter 8: **

* * *

Alistair tried to concentrate on what Sidona was saying rather than the way her full lips moved when she said them. He tried, he sincerely did. But it didn't help that she had captivated him from the very moment that he had set eyes on her. It wreaked havoc on his attention span, especially considering that only a half an hour before he had lain beside her, her small but womanly body pressed to his.

"-in closing, I propose that once we're in a more settled position in the Arling, we undertake an expedition to the deep roads to investigate Alistair's dream," she finished. Her eyes swept over the gathered Wardens and she clasped her hands behind her back in a military stance. "Any questions?"

Alistair opened his mouth and then closed it with an audible snap. He'd been so busy ogling her that he hadn't paid enough attention to ask anything halfway intelligent. So he decided to stay quiet.

"The deep roads?" Anders scowled as he petted Ser Pounce-a-lot. "Have I ever told you that I have an irrational fear of cave mold?"

Alistair snorted and Sidona merely shook her head. "You are going with us, whether or not you fear cave mold," she replied.

Anders huffed. "Alright, fine. I'll brave the cave mold, so long as there aren't any spiders."

Alistair pursed his lips together and kept silent. It would be counter productive to point out that there were spiders the size of mabaris in the deep roads. He cast a sideways glance at their Commander and noticed that Sidona had much the same expression on her lovely scarred elven face, though she covered it quickly with a reassuring smile. "I'm sure that there is nothing to worry about."

"Oh no, nothing to fear at all. It'll be damp...dark... and utterly creepy. Like a holiday, really!" Anders relied sarcastically.

"With dark spawn!" Alistair chimed in before he could stop himself.

Anders narrowed his eyes at the ex-templar, "Yes, thank you Captain Obvious. I'd completely missed that part!"

Alistair favored the Mage with a wide unrepentant smile, "Anytime, Anders."

"Commander," Nathaniel spoke up. "Are we certain you want to venture the Deep Roads simply because Alistair had a dream?"

"Alistair dreamed that the Vigil was under attack, my stoic friend. Were it not for him and our timely rescue, your handsome face might be hanging off the end of a dark spawn spear," Zevran interjected with a toothy grin. "And what a waste that would be, no?"

Nathaniel's dark eyes narrowed at the blond elf. "I take it you're an admirer, Zevran?" Nathaniel retorted.

The Antivan's grin turned into a leer. "Always," he winked at Nathaniel's shocked expression. "You forget that I'm Antivan. We impale handsome faces on _spears_ all the time!"

Alistair choked on a laugh and Sidona held up her hands placatingly. "Alright boys! Do not make me separate you!"

"Please do!" Anders said with groan.

Nathaniel gave Zevran one last unreadable expression before turning his attention back to Sidona. "My apologies, Commander."

Zevran simply settled back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest. Ignoring Sidona's patient expression before sighing. "As Nathaniel says, apologies," he gestured with a bored flip of his hand.

Sidona shook her head. "Zevran, would you mind telling me now about how your investigation in Amaranthine turned out?"

Zevran inclined his head in a respectful nod. "From what information I was able to gather from my sources, Ser Tamra is right to suspect those letters to contain information about a plot on your life. The Antivan Crows on the road were part of a cell hired by some of Amaranthine's nobility to do away with you. According to my sources the conspirators intend on meeting with the Crows at Old Stark's farm in two days to discuss laying a trap for you," the elf said as he picked at some invisible dirt under his nails.

"Then we will be at Old Stark's farm as well. Do you know their identities?" she asked.

Zevran shook his head. "Only their location."

At that moment there was a knock at the door. "Enter!" Sidona barked, perturbed at the interruption.

The door opened to reveal Varel. "I apologize Commander, but it is Tuesday."

Sidona's expression went from annoyed to weary. "Already?" Varel's apologetic expression made her sigh heavily. She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Fine, tell them I will be down momentarily."

Varel bowed, "As you wish, Commander."

"Tuesday?" Alistair asked. He'd been at the Vigil for a little over two weeks and he hadn't noticed anything special about Tuesdays before now.

She rubbed her hands over her pretty face before they fell away to reveal how tired she was. "Before the dark spawn attack, I would hold court every Tuesday. I have matters of high justice to settle," she explained apologetically before she dismissed them.

Alistair waited until all the others had filed out before crossing the room and taking her into his arms. "Would you like me to come with you?" he asked her quietly before dropping a kiss into her hair.

She nodded against him.

* * *

Sidona would have thought that Alistair would have dropped her arm and let her continue on alone once they entered the throne-room, but to her surprise he led her to the throne.

When they reached it Varel regarded them with a lifted brow, which Alistair returned with one of his own. In response Varel pressed his lips together in an effort not to smile. He inclined his head to both of them and Alistair released her from his grasp, then took up position on the right side of the throne in a silent show of support.

"I'm sorry Commander, I held it off as long as I could," he said in a hushed tone.

"It is alright, Varel. I don't mind holding court, though if it becomes necessary you may have to hold it while we are away or if I am injured again," she said with a small smile.

"As you wish Commander," Varel turned to the crowd before them and called for silence. Then the session began.

"Bring forth the first case!" Varel called out in his booming voice.

"The Crown against Alec the Sheepherder!" Garavel who was standing off to the side read off the parchment he held. "Crown accuses Alec the sheepherder of stealing two bushels of grain from the Arling granaries, a capitol offense," he glared at the sheepherder.

"Poor bugger," Varel mumbled to Sidona. "If he'd stolen from anyone but the Crown he'd escaped with a flogging."

The sheepherder held his head high. "I had no choice, mi'lady. My family is starving! The dark spawn have killed nearly all my sheep, and what they haven't the bandits took. I just did what I had to do... for my family!"

There was a silence as everyone waited for Sidona to condemn the poor man to death. She let the silence stretch out and everyone but the man before her started to look unnerved by her lack of response. Finally she tilted her head to the side and opened her mouth to speak. Alec steeled himself for his sentence, "Alec, how many children do you have?"

The sheepherder blinked at her. "Mi'lady?" he asked in confusion.

She chuckled, knowing that the question was hardly expected.. "How many children?"

"Oh...er...five, Milady," he raised a hand and rubbed the back of his neck, clearly unnerved by the change in tone of the proceedings.

"You're wife, what does she have to say about you stealing grain?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"My Malinda? Oh... well, pardon my saying Ma'am, but what she had to say ain't fit for a ladies ears," he averted his eyes from her and shuffled his feet nervously.

Sidona pursed her lips to keep from chuckling. "Can you fight?" she asked instead.

"I'm alright with a bow and arrows," the sheepherder replied with confusion.

Varel snorted. "Just alright he says! Alec here wins first prize every festival tourney, mi'lady. Peasant contests, of course."

"Commander, I fail to see what this has to do with sentencing the accused!" Garavel grumbled impatiently.

"I find I am unsurprised, Garavel," Sidona said nonchalantly.

Garavel sputtered indignantly and opened his mouth to speak again but shut it when Varel glared at him. Alistair covered up a snicker with a feigned coughing fit.

Sighing heavily Sidona turned back to Alec. "Alec, I ask you these things because I have need of good men. Men who would sacrifice much to save others. You were willing to steal to feed your family, even though you knew it could mean your death. And even when you were caught, you did not beg nor plead for mercy, even though you clearly deserve such. I cannot just let you go, and the law will not allow that I let you off with a flogging. So I have two options. The first option open to me is hanging you. You are a good man, and that would be a waste. The second option is an offer. An offer that I do not make lightly, and will likely lead you to an early grave anyway. Become a Grey Warden, fight with us. Fight with us and I promise you, that even if you perish, we will care for your children and your wife as though they were our own kin," she stood up as she finished and her eyes locked with the sheepherder's.

The hall had grown silent, even Garavel had been rendered speechless. Alec blinked at her, "You'll take care of my family?" he asked in awe.

"It is no less than I would do for any of my brothers or sisters," Sidona replied with a gentle smile. "What say you, Alec the sheepherder?"

"I'm not afraid to die, mi'lady. But if it gives me a chance to feed my family and do something meaningful with my life then the answer is yes, I accept," he broke out into a smile.

She winced at the gratitude in his voice. This was anything but a mercy she was offering him. "Then I as Warden Commander of Ferelden, hereby conscript you into the Grey Wardens," she smiled sadly as he grinned at her. "Please take your place next to Alistair, he is to be your mentor for the time being," she gestured to Alistair.

Alec took his place next to Alistair, who grinned broadly at the sheepherder turned Warden recruit and clapped him on the back.

The rest of the session did not go as well as that. Lady Liza Packton ended up keeping the rights to the lands of Ser Derren, though Sidona swore to the knight that she would make it up to him. And a soldier from the Vigil had been caught three miles from the Keep, despite the fact that she claimed to have been going to save her family from dark spawn, her desertion coincided too conveniently with the night of the dark spawn attack. So Sidona had her imprisoned, rather than having her family moved to the Vigil.

When the last noble had stuck their nose up in the air and flounced out of the throneroom, Sidona sunk down onto the throne with a weary and miserable expression. "Must it always be like this?" she looked up at Varel.

"I'm afraid its not likely to get any easier, Commander. Desperation breeds desperate actions, I suppose. Its been a hard last couple of years. And Rendon Howe almost ran this Arling into the ground, even before the blight," Varel replied with barely disguised bitterness.

"I suppose until we can take care of the bandits on the Pilgrims Path and open the trade routes it's not likely to get better, is it?" she asked dejectedly.

"No, Commander," Varel replied.

"Have we heard anything from Kristoff?" she asked.

Varel shook his head. "No, though it is not unlike him not to report unless he has something to report, Commander."

She nodded. "You're right," she sighed and pulled herself up and noticed that Garavel was still glaring at her. She raised an eyebrow in challenge and he dropped his gaze, though the angry expression did not lift. She turned her attention to Alec who by now was standing at Alistair's side looking out of place. "Varel, please see to it that Alec and his family are set up with suitable quarters," she ordered. "We'll see to the Joining ritual in the morning."

"Yes, my Lady," Varel bowed and gestured for Alec to follow him.

"If you will excuse me, Commander," Garavel gave a stiff bow without meeting her eyes and stormed out of the room.

Sidona watched him go. "Why does that man hate me so?" she asked Alistair without looking at him.

"Because everyday he wakes up where it's dark and smelly. It's no good talking to a man like that, because its impossible for him to hear you with his head stuck so far up his arse," Alistair replied.

Sidona laughed softly and then shook her head before finally turning to look at him. "You are terrible!"

He took a step forward and drew her into his arms, "Oh yes, I'm a bad, bad man."

Sidona hummed contentedly and tilted her face upwards. "Yes, very bad," she agreed.

He smiled down at her goofily. "Also, incredibly handsome."

She chuckled, her eyes shining brightly. "I agree."

He leaned his head down until their lips were almost touching. "And I've got excellent taste in women."

"Alistair."

"Mmm?" he hummed in response.

"Shut up and kiss me," she ordered.

Rather than respond he dipped his head and took her lips gently, exploring her mouth with his own. He moaned as her small hand found its way into his hair and held him in place as she kissed him back. Her tongue slid into his mouth and he found himself lost to her completely.

When they came up for air he found her eyes half-lidded and so vibrant they seemed to almost glow. "Alistair," she pleaded.

A spring coiled tighter in his gut and he felt a thrum of desire as she said his name. "Love?"

"Take me to bed," she demanded huskily.

He locked eyes with her, awed now by the power this woman had over him. He bent and scooped her up into his arms, never letting his gaze leave hers. "Maker!" he swore thickly at the feel of her soft body against him.

He somehow managed to make it back up to her room with her in his arms. He barely even registered the knowing grins and giggling of the Vigil maids and staff as he strode purposefully up her room, his expression tight and determined as he struggled to keep from just taking her into one of the closer empty rooms.

* * *

After what seemed an eternity they reached her rooms and when at last the door to her bedroom was shut and locked safely behind him he turned to her. The reality of the situation finally hit him and he hesitated. "Sidona, I-," he was about to say that maybe they should wait. Maybe this was too fast and they should wait until this was what she really wanted. Neither of them had really discussed the future other than that he wanted to stay and that she wanted him to stay. That they would be courting and he just assumed that their blossoming relationship would become more vocal in its declarations. Though at that moment, there could be no doubt that he was falling for her and falling hard. It seemed to him that it started the instant he first saw her, flaming red and gleaming silverite amidst a tide of snarling dark spawn.

But she covered his lips with her own, stopping his words and his thoughts. "Make love to me," was whispered plaintively into the firelight of her room, her voice trembling with vulnerability. The naked pleas behind her words were 'don't leave me' and 'I am lost without you', and it broke his heart and made it swell at the same time. He sunk to a knee before her and pulled her forward into his arms holding her against him, the rapid beating of her heart in his ear. She was so warm and alive.

"I love you," he choked out, knowing that it may be too soon for such declarations, but it was what he felt and needed to say. He didn't expect a response but she leaned down and kissed him tenderly and when she pulled back he felt wetness on his cheeks from where a tear had transferred from her cheek to his.

"_Je t'aime_," she held his face in both her hands, her sweet breath ghosting over his lips. "_Ne pas douter je vous aime. Vous etes le gardien de mon couer_."

At any other time he would have teased her for speaking Orlesian when he couldn't understand it. But the reverence and emotion in her voice stopped him from doing so. He knew by her tears, by her small fingers stroking his stubble-roughened cheeks and the way in which she spoke, she returned his love.

He reached up and caught her hands with his, bringing the tips of her fingers to his lips and kissing each finger gently. He looked up into her eyes. "Turn around," he instructed gently before releasing her hands and putting his own on her hips.

Her bottom lip was pulled between her teeth in a moment's hesitation, but she turned around none-the-less. With her back to him he felt as though he could once again catch his breath. He reached up and pulled gently on the lacing holding together the back of her dress. The tie came easily undone as though it had just been waiting for his fingers to release them, his hands traveled down her back as he pulled the dress apart, revealing her soft sun kissed skin beneath. He again reached up and this time his fingers grasped her dress at the shoulders and brought the sleeves down her arms, the dress moved slowly downwards as his large hands drew the garment down her body. Once the sleeves were off her arms the dress sat on her hips and he was eye level with the back of her breast band. He reached upwards again and undid the clasp, then he pulled the confining material from her and stifled a groan as he trailed his eyes over the sides of her breasts which were round and soft looking. He ached to snake his hands around her front and touch them. But he knew that if he did not keep this slow, he would not last long. And though he could likely go again only a few minutes afterwards, he wanted this to be right. He wanted to worship her, not satisfy his own needs.

So instead of letting his hands roam her upper body as he desperately wanted to, he placed a tender kiss between her shoulder blades and skimmed his lips downwards over her spine. She hummed encouragingly, letting him know that she liked the feeling. Emboldened he pulled the dress down the rest of the way and let her step out of it. He smiled when he realized that not only had he left her small clothes on, he'd also managed to leave on her boots.

He grasped her hips and turned her around so that she was facing him. He deliberately kept his gaze averted from her breasts and focused on the boots. He lifted her legs one at a time, slipping off each boot and caressing each silky calf as it was removed, relishing in the feel of her small hands grasping his shoulders in an effort to steady herself. That left just her small clothes, the last piece of cloth that hindered him from seeing her bare before him. He placed his palms on her silky thighs and caressed upwards until he reached the ties on either sides of her hips. He admired the design of them, white orlesian silk and lace, he placed a kiss on her left hip before drawing the garment downwards where it joined her dress and boots. It was then that he gently pushed her a step away from her, his large hands still grasping her hips as he let his eyes roam upwards from her small feet, upwards over her toned but slender legs, the dark auburn hair of her sex, the swell of her hips, the narrow expanse of her waist accentuated by the slight definition of abdominal muscles. When he reached her breasts his eyes widened. They were small compared to a human woman's but they fit her perfectly, her pink nipples contrasted prettily with the golden hue of her skin and were larger than he expected. He tore his eyes away and let them travel upwards to her smooth shoulders and delicate collar bones. "So beautiful," he breathed.

She blushed violently, making the white scars on her cheeks stand out sharply. She had more scars than those on her body, a testament to a warrior's life. But the scars did not mar her beauty, merely enhanced it. He stared at her for a long time, in awe of the fact that she was so beautiful and she was his. He was so in awe, in fact, that he barely knew where to start touching her.

As if she sensed his dilemma she took his hands from her hips and pulled him upwards. When he stood looking down at her she smiled and started unbuttoning his shirt. "You are overdressed for what I have planned for you, mon cher," she scolded lightly.

Alistair chuckled and let her take off his shirt. "Well, we can't have that," he teased and then hissed out a breath as her fingers skimmed down his torso towards the tie on his trousers. With every jerk of the trousers strings he bit back a moan, which, escaped his mouth entirely when she released him from the confines of his trousers and small clothes. She smiled up at him triumphantly and then took his hands after he'd kicked his own boots off and stepped out of his trousers. He nearly moaned again as her eyes

wandered over his body hungrily.

She pulled him onto her bed with her and he laid his much larger body next to hers and propped his head up on his elbow. He then leaned down kissed her passionately, letting his free hand slide up along her flank to the swell of her breast. He cupped the mound firmly and squeezed, swallowing the moan she made. He wrenched out of the kiss only to fall upon her breast, drawing the nipple into his mouth he sucked gently, then he released it he laved the peak with his tongue and held onto her when she arched up from the bed. "Alistair!" she pleaded softly.

"Mmm?" he grinned teasingly at her.

"You need to stop this torture. I need you," she hissed out as he squeezed her breast again.

With a growl Alistair rolled on top of her and thrust his knee between her legs, parting them. He snaked a hand between them and the heat and moisture he found there made him groan. He positioned himself and looked down into her face. Her eyes were closed. "Look at me," he demanded. Her eyelids flew open and she looked into his hazel ones. "I love you, Sidona," he said and then he pushed forward, entering her in a long slow thrust that had them both crying out.

"Maker!" he exclaimed as her walls grasped him. She felt so good, like wet silk wrapped around his hardened length.

Alistair moved within her, knowing for the first time what it was like to make love to someone. He listened attentively to each sigh, every moan and shift of her hips, urging him on. He stroked her lovingly until she arched and cried out in his arms, tightening around him until he could bare no more. He hooked her legs over his arms and lifted her hips upwards and tried a slow but deep stroke. The affect on Sidona was immediate, "Yes!" she sobbed out. He growled and plunged onwards, the new angle letting him sheathe himself completely in her. Soon his thrusts became erratic and he could no longer hold back his release.

"Let go love," he begged wanting her to find her completion along with him.

His whispered plea seemed to be all it took as her walls slammed down on his length and he came with a shout. "Maker!" he exclaimed and collapsed onto her, raining grateful kisses on her cheeks and eyelids and finally tenderly kissing her lips.

She made a disappointed noise when he rolled off her. He pulled her into his arms, her face against his chest and she threw a smooth calf over his thigh. He opened his mouth only to have her small fingers press themselves to his lips. "Go to sleep, my love," she said sleepily.

He chuckled. "Yes, dear," his chuckle turned into a laugh when she swatted him on the arm.

"You need sleep, for I will have my wicked way with you again shortly," she yawned. "As soon as I recover."

He chuckled again. "Good night, my love," he dropped a kiss into her hair and listened as her breathing evened out.

* * *

**A/N: Sidona's declaration to Alistair: "I love you. Never doubt my love for you. You are the Keeper of my heart." I may have gotten a bit of that wrong but I used an online English-French translator thing. **

**I hope that this love scene wasn't too soon, or too long or too over the top. I thought you all deserved some "Sexy time" after Anders rudely interrupted them during the last chapter. **

**Thank you Melismo for editing. =)**


	10. Chapter 10

**The Awakening**

**A Dragon Age Fanfiction**

**By Bionca Femme**

**Chapter 9: The Taint in the dark**

* * *

The next day Alistair awoke to the sound of humming. A woman's voice, soft and melodious was humming something he didn't recognize and he cracked an eyelid open just in time to see Sidona opening the door and taking a tray of food from a maid. She thanked the girl with a smile and closed the door almost silently, not noticing yet that he was awake. He watched as she set the tray down on the small table in her room. Sidona frowned lightly as she noticed that there were correspondences on the tray and she picked them up with a heavy sigh, popping the seal on one and opening it.

Alistair quietly propped himself up onto one elbow and looked her over. Her hair was slightly messy and she wore a cream colored robe made of silk that did nothing to hide the fact that she was nude underneath. Her hips were cocked to the left and she nibbled her lower lip as her eyes scanned the vellum. He was admiring her form with a wolfish grin when she made a disapproving noise.

"_Merde!_" she hissed in frustration and tossed the vellum into the fire.

"Bad news, I take it?" he inquired, laughing lightly as she turned her scowl on him.

"Sergeant Maverlies has found a cave in beneath the Vigil. She believes it is why the dark spawn were able to penetrate our defenses so easily," she pinched the bridge of her nose. "I do not know how that could be, we had almost no warning before they came upon us. I refuse to believe that they were able to mask their existence from us long enough to tunnel beneath our feet!" she reached upwards and ran her fingers through her hair and then gestured to the tray. "I had food sent up, my love. I apologize," she crossed the room and climbed up onto the bed with him, draping herself over him and skimming her lips over his. "I had planned to wake you up with kisses and strawberries. Alas, they are out of season in this cold country and I fear you spoiled my plan," she pouted theatrically.

Alistair made a scoffing noise. "My dear Lady, kisses are never out of season in Fereldan!" he declared and pulled her downwards for a passionate kiss. When they pulled apart he smiled devilishly as she whimpered at the loss of contact. "_That_, my love, is a proper Fereldan good morning kiss," he grinned. "No silly strawberries required."

She raised a dark red brow at him. "Oh? Is this how you say good morning in Fereldan? Well," she trailed a fingertip over his chest, scratching lightly through his light brown chest hair. "Perhaps I should show you how we do such things in Orlais, yes?"

She leaned forwards and caught his lower lip between her teeth nibbling lightly and then sucking it into her mouth gently. Once she released his lip her tongue darted out and licked it soothingly, then she closed the distance between them. The kiss was slower, gentler, somehow more like a conversation than a kiss.

When she pulled away it was his turn to whimper and she giggled. He smiled back at her goofily. "Mmm, I like that," he growled low in his throat and pulled her against him.

His lips fell to her throat and she put her palms on his chest, "Alistair?" she gasped.

"Mmm?" he mumbled into the crook of her neck.

"Oh!" she gasped again as his hands slid into the opening of her robe and his fingertips tickled along her ribcage. "We need to...ah...eat something...then...mmm...we need to-," her head fell back and her eyes fluttered closed as he opened her robe fully and caressed her naked breasts.

"Later..." he mumbled and continued his ministrations.

Much later...

Alistair whistled tunelessly as he bounded down the Vigil steps. He was heading towards Herren with his new shield to see about putting a Grey Warden livery on it. He was so caught up in thinking about his morning tryst with Sidona that he was caught totally unawares by the sudden presence of an arm draped over his shoulder.

"You dog!" Anders grinned at him and ruffled the ex-templar's hair.

Alistair shrugged Anders off him violently and scowled, before trying to set his hair to rights. "Andraste's flaming sword! What's gotten into you, Anders!"

"Ah, ah, ah!" Anders waggled an admonishing finger at him. "You shagged the Commander didn't you?" when Alistair failed to answer the Mage used the finger he'd waggled at him to poke the ex-Templar in the ribs. "Didn't you?" he poked him again.

"Ow! Stop that!" Alistair glared at the Mage indignantly and held up his shield to ward off the poking appendage. "A gentleman never tells!"

Anders gave the ex-templar a knowing look. "You did!"

"Don't you have to go play with that flea-ridden beast you're always carrying around?" Alistair shot back.

"Oh now, that hurts!" Anders clutched his chest comically. "Don't insult my cat just cause you aren't man enough to own up to sticking your sword in the Commander!" he waggled his eyebrows at Alistair.

"Being man enough to own up to it and being stupid enough to brag about it are two different things," Alistair grumbled.

"You know, I don't know if you've noticed, but we sort of look alike... I wonder if the Commander would be interested in a little bit of the old Anders' spicy shimmy," Anders winced as Alistair cuffed him on the back of the head.

"Watch it!" Alistair warned.

"I think I see what's going on here," Anders rubbed the back of his head and glared at Alistair theatrically. "When young Alistair was a wee little Templar nobody ever taught him about sharing!" he ducked as Alistair swiped at him again.

Alistair gave Anders a dark expression. "If I even catch you looking at her, I will thrash you within an inch of your life!"

Anders eyes widened and was joined by a grin. "Oh, so that's the way of it, is it? Alistair is in love!"

Alistair blushed violently. "Alright, you know what? I don't have to listen to this. I'm going that way and you're going the other way and if you follow me...I. Will. Smite. You," he gave the mage a curt nod and stomped off.

Anders cackled evilly to himself. "I've got to tell Zev this one!" he exclaimed and rushed off to find the blond elf.

* * *

It was not too long after, that Alistair was summoned to meet Sidona at the entrance to the deep cellars, the messenger told him that full armor and weaponry were required. Once he'd gotten himself ready he

made his way down to the courtyard and found that she was already there, waiting with Nathaniel and

Zevran.

The smirk on the elven man's face and the saucy wink he gave Alistair, told the Templar that he was already aware of the progress that had been made between he and his Commander. _'Note to self: Smite Mage,'_ Alistair growled inwardly. Although to be fair, he could hardly expect their new intimacy to remain secret as he'd carried her to her rooms to have his wicked way with her without so much as a thought to discretion. Every maid in the entire Keep had seen him stalk through the halls with her in his arms. He flushed and pulled himself out of the memory before it got too graphic only to realize that Sidona was giving them instructions.

"-have been cleared and there may be pockets of dark spawn. Please remember to let Alistair and me draw their attention. Nathaniel, if you can manage it, keep Zevran from being overwhelmed as he is not a Warden. I should hate for him to get sick," she said and smiled as Zevran inclined his head in thanks.

"Alright, let us go and see what we can see, yes?" she said brightly and slipped through the cellar door and into the darkness beyond.

One by one they entered the cellars and descended the stairs behind their Commander. Alistair's heart would slam against his ribcage every time her bright red head would disappear about the corner, only to speed up in a completely different way when she came into sight once more. When it became almost too much to bear he shouldered his way past the other two companions so that he could walk next to her. She gave him a gentle reassuring smile when she noticed his presence and it eased the tension within him slightly.

The stairway emptied out into a room, surrounded by statues of basilisks and Avaar barbarians. Alistair's eyebrows shot up and he examined the stone figures with great interest. "I heard that Amaranthine was still littered with evidence of the Avaar's. I just didn't realize that there were still things like this beneath the Vigil!" he exclaimed with fascination. No one answered him and he turned from the statue he was looking at to find both Nathaniel and Zevran watching as Sidona knelt down beside a wounded Mabari. Both men had their hands on their weaponry, in case the animal tried to bite her in its obvious pain.

Alistair approached slowly and knelt beside Sidona who was speaking to the beast in gentle quiet tones without touching it. "She's hurt pretty badly," he said sadly. "I don't know if she'll make it much longer."

Sidona looked up at him and saw the wetness in her eyes. He tensed, trying to overcome the desire to take her into his arms just then and comfort her, but now was not the time. She gave him a small smile though, letting him know that she was alright and he relaxed. Instead he watched as she cautiously reached out and slid a gentle hand over the Mabari's uninjured head soothingly. The tiny stump of a tail wagged pitifully in gratitude, thankful to receive this last comfort in its last moments, then the wagging and the uneven rise and fall of the beasts chest ceased and Sidona covered her mouth. Alistair did wrap and arm around her then, mindful of the plate armor they were both in. She sniffled and collected herself. "Thank you, _mon cher_," she said quietly and then reached forth again and withdrew a small slip of vellum that was tucked beneath the dog's collar.

Sidona read the paper out loud and turned at a gasp from Nathaniel. "You know the woman that wrote this?" she asked him.

Nathaniel nodded. "Adria, she was like a mother to me. Please, Commander. We must find her!"

Alistair rose and offered Sidona a hand up, which she took gratefully. Once she was standing she turned her attention back on Nathaniel. "You realize that she may have contracted the Blight disease, as did this poor creature?" she gestured to the lifeless dog at their feet.

"We must at least try!" Nathaniel insisted, the hardness that had started to dissipate from his features since the joining had returned.

"We will do what we can, but I want you to understand that there may be little we can do to help her. If she is infected we may have to perform our duty and provide her with peace," her words were firm but her eyes were sad, softening the blow of the message she was trying to get across.

Nathaniel nodded. "I understand."

* * *

The cellars were infested with dark spawn and ghouls, the deeper they went the less likely it seemed that they would find Nathaniel's foster mother unharmed. Upon entering the first room of darkspawn, they found a room lined with cells and filled with ghouls. They screeched and launched themselves at the newcomers, trying in vain to claw at their faces. Sidona and Alistair did not bother with trying to sort out if one of these unfortunate souls was Nathaniel's Adaia. As was the case with most mass infections, it was Grey Warden policy to exterminate the lot and let the Maker sort them out later.

After an examination of the people who had yet to succumb to the Taint in the only locked cell, Sidona freed them and told them to run. They scrambled over each other desperately to get away from the madness.

When they were gone Alistair noticed that Sidona's attention had been captured by a door that seemed locked. She looked at it contemplatively. "Nathaniel, what is behind this door?" she asked.

Nathaniel stood beside her and frowned at the door. "The crypt. I hardly think that Adria would have gone in there, however. It was forbidden," he said impatiently.

Sidona raised an eyebrow. "The taint cares not for such rules. We must go down there," she said.

He opened his mouth to say something else, but then shut it again at the look of challenge in her eyes. "Yes, Commander," he replied with a frown and then stooped to a knee to pick the lock.

The lock seemed effortless to pick and Alistair had to wonder why such a forbidden place was so easy to break into. The door swung open and they found themselves once again descending into the dark.

The dark was not empty, sarcophagi lined the walls and the very walls themselves seemed to hold a glow that illuminated the room slightly, upon closer inspection they discovered that the walls were covered in a slimy substance that glowed slightly. Zevran took an old dry torch from the wall near the entrance and lit it and the one on the opposite side of the door. The room sprang to life and they realized that part of the room was sunken, stairs led down to another level which was also lined with sarcophagi. Avaar statues stood guard next too key holes on either side of the door.

Before he could stop her, Sidona had started to descend the steps. "Sidona," he hissed out in a whisper, almost as if he were afraid that being too loud would awaken whatever spirits haunted that place.

"Perhaps someone should tell her that we attract undead?" Zevran suggested.

Alistair shot him an impatient look. "Not helping!"

Zevran shrugged. "I am just pointing out that whenever you and I are together, it seems we find places where the dead walk, no? I think it would be a good thing if we warned our dear Commander of this."

"Its not like its something we're responsible for!" Alistair hissed out.

Zevran opened his mouth to respond when the sound of a pressure plate being pressed sounded below them. "Brosca!" Zevran swore and tore down the stairs.

Afraid for what his lover may have gotten herself into Alistair followed and found Sidona standing completely still with a horrified expression. "It was too dark for me to see it!" she explained. "Zevran, what will happen when I move?"

Zevran was kneeling before her, studying the pressure plate and trying to ascertain what kind of trap it was. "Any number of terrible things my dear," he replied. "You should keep your pretty foot still, lest Alistair be scraping what's left of you off the walls, no?"

Alistair would have laughed at the pout on her face, were the situation less dire. He moved to her side and she gave him an apologetic smile. "I should have listened to you, I am sorry," she said with wide frightened eyes.

"Its going to be alright," he reached out and took her hand, squeezing it gently.

"I think it is safe for you to move your foot, my dear. I do not see where you will immediately be skewered or roasted alive by a fire ball," Zevran said finally.

"Are you sure?" she asked the ex-assassin.

"Eh, mostly sure," he replied with a shrug of his shoulders. "If there is a release of poisonous gas, well then, you can rest easy knowing that you will take the rest of us with you, no?"

"That is most comforting," Nathaniel broke in with a sarcastic hiss.

"Ah, my surly friend! Where is your sense of adventure?" Zevran teased.

"Alright!" Sidona growled, cutting them off. "I am lifting my foot now. Be ready for anything," with that she removed her foot and they all flinched simultaneously.

For several seconds nothing happened. "Well," said Zevran. "That was terribly disappointing."

No sooner had those words left his lips than the sound of stone dragging on stone met their ears. "You just had to say that, didn't you?" Alistair groaned.

"Oh look, undead," Zevran pointed out with an amused chuckle.

"Shut up," Alistair suggested and raised his shield.

They were set upon by skeletons wearing the trappings of the Avaar barbarians. Alistair smashed his shield into an advancing skeleton and then brought his plated boot heel down, caving in the skull. The bones twitched and finally stilled as the last of the enchantment ebbed out of the corpse.

He turned to find Zevran and Sidona fighting back to back. On the landing above, Nathaniel fired arrows downward into the fray. Alistair's eyes widened as skeleton's emerged from the sarcophagi on the upper level. "Nathaniel! Behind you!" he shouted and dashed towards the stairs, narrowly avoiding the swing of a barbarian ax on the way.

Nathaniel had turned to see the advancing monsters just in time to launch himself over the railing to get to safety. Alistair managed to raise his shield just in time to stop and arrow from skewering the young Howe.

"Thanks!" Nathaniel shouted over the din of battle.

Alistair offered him a grin instead of a verbal acknowledgment and then turned his full attention back to the skeletons now descending the staircase. He backed away from the stairs, pulling Nathaniel with him, careful to shield the young man until the advancing skeleton archers switched from short-bows to

swords and daggers. By this time the two were joined by Sidona and Zevran, the remaining undead fell quickly to their blades.

They stood there a moment, to catch their breaths. Not surprisingly it was Zevran that broke the silence. "Well, it could have been worse!" he slid he weapons back into their harness and looked up, seeing identical incredulous expressions on the faces of his companions. "They could have been flaming undead, yes?" he grinned.

Alistair groaned. "That was not my idea!"

"Oh, I know. But where I was forced to agree with Lyna because I was hoping to insinuate myself into her bed. You simply agreed because you are secretly insane. Zevran knows a man who flirts with danger when he sees one," he chuckled and dodged out of the way when Alistair took a swipe at him.

"What is it with you people?" he whined. "If it's not you harassing me, it's Anders!"

"Oh?" Sidona asked as they started ascending the stairwell. "What did our dear Mage do to upset you my love?"

Alistair flushed and grumbled out some nonsensical thing. Neither noticing that Zevran had lagged behind to retrieve something from a large white sack that seemed out of place in the middle of the crypt.

* * *

It had been an impulsive thing, taking the pieces of the bow with the Howe crest from the crypt. Zevran had no idea what came over him. It was not until after he had seen how upset Nathaniel was when they finally found Nathaniel's adoptive mother, that he realized he had taken it because it might mean something to the young Howe.

Having never known his own mother, Zevran knew how it felt to have someone willing to step into that role, to have cared enough to keep him clothed and fed. Nearly all the whores in the whorehouse he had been born in had shared in that duty. When he had been taken and sold to the Crows at the tender age of seven, he'd mourned the loss of several Mother's, not just one. Though they probably had been relieved to not have had to be burdened with him any longer. He would always remember them for having tried while he was there.

Zevran watched the Commander and Alistair talk with Sergeant Maverlies only to find his attention wandering to the dark young man, suffering in silence as he stood bravely against a wall, his eyes transfixed to the blighted remains of the only Mother he had ever known.

Alistair and Sidona could not be blamed for leaving the young man to mourn in solitude, they had expressed their regrets to him, but inevitably they needed to attend to the safety of others. The duty of mending the young Howe's breaking heart would have to wait until later. For Zevran, however, the matter of the silently suffering Howe was much more difficult to ignore. He left the shadows where he had been observing Nathaniel and quietly made his way over to the young man. Nathaniel had not heard his approach, so absorbed was he in looking at the body of the woman who had raised him, that he nearly jumped out of his skin when Zevran set a hand on the young man's shoulder.

"What do you want, elf?" he spat. His venom more out of anger and sorrow than any real dislike of Zevran.

"To take you back into the sunlight, my friend," Zevran said softly.

The tension released from the young man's shoulders and he visibly deflated under the elven assassin's words. "I cannot. I can _not_ leave her here," he protested, his voice hitching mid-sentence.

"Someone will come back down for her later, my friend. We shall have a pyre and her spirit will go to the Maker. I swear it," Zevran squeezed Nathaniel's shoulder and the young man looked up at him, searching the honey colored eyes for something. When Nathaniel had apparently found it he gave Zevran a small smile and Zevran felt a curious tug at how vulnerable Nathaniel seemed. Were he a mark, this is where Zevran would strike. It left Zevran feeling suddenly out of his depth and unsure of himself. The feeling only grew when at that moment he realized that he liked the man, perhaps more than he was ready for.

"Zevran?" Nathaniel asked worriedly, his eyebrows knitted together.

Zevran shook his head and then flashed the dark haired man a winning smile. "Come, let us go up into the sun and find us a bottle of something to drown our sorrows, yes?"

Nathaniel nodded and gave the elf a halfhearted smile. "I think I'd like that, actually."

Zevran pulled the young man with him, away from the body of Adria. He pulled the youth upwards, towards the sun, towards hope and the possibility of moving forward. Nathaniel followed, grateful that he wouldn't have to mourn alone.

* * *

**A/N: I just can't stay away from the Zevran/Nathaniel idea. It just seems so perfect a match to me.**

**I know that I talked about deviating from the story and I still plan on doing so, but the cellars and the entrance to the deep roads beneath the Vigil will play a vital part in that.**

"**Witches and Mirrors" is underway, I'm now working on chapter 3. I know I said I would wait until near the end of this story, but as I have no idea when that will be, I think I will get five chapters finished of it and then start posting. **

**Thank you to those of you who have reviewed. Your encouragement keeps me going. And thank you to Melismo, super-beta.**


	11. Chapter 11

**The Awakening**

**A Dragon Age Fanfiction**

**By Bionca Femme**

**Chapter 10: **

* * *

It was later that evening that Alec's family arrived at the Vigil, and as Alec's mentor, Alistair was at Sidona's side when she greeted them at the gate. They arrived in a wagon, pulled by an entirely too thin looking mule. Alec's wife was of darker complexion, with dark hair and dark eyes, indicating Rivaini ancestry. She was huge. That's not to say that she was a big woman, because no one barely surviving like Alec and his family had been trying to would be overweight. Rather, she was extremely pregnant. So pregnant in fact that Alistair found himself having to press his lips tight to prevent him from asking Alec just how many buns he felt he needed to put in the woman's oven. Still, despite that, the woman was impossibly cheerful and outgoing. Alec had no sooner helped her down from the cart than she had waddled up to Sidona and pulled her into a tight embrace.

"Andraste preserve us!" Malinda exclaimed as she pulled away from Sidona and held her out at arms length. "Yer as skinny as a lamp post!" she admonished and then grinned at the Commander. "Pardon me fer saying so mi'lady, but if you'll be permittin' it, I'll have a talk to yer cook about fatten' ye up right proper. Being a Grey Warden requires meals that stick to yer bones, so it does!" she said, then she turned to Alistair and looked him over. "And this here be your Gentleman?" she gave a rapidly reddening Sidona a saucy wink and a grin. "Oh, he be a fine pretty thing! And so tall and strong looking!" she giggled and pinched Alistair's cheek.

Alistair couldn't help but grin and preen a little bit. "It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am."

Malinda's own cheeks pinked. "And so mannerly, he is!"

"Oh, fer the love of Andraste!" Alec sighed with exasperation as he helped the fifth and final child down from the cart. "Leave the Commander and Alistair alone, woman!"

Malinda glared at Alec. "I was just makin' polite conversation. 'Sides, I do a far better job of it than you do! What with yer goin on and on about sheep. As if anyone but you were interested!"

Sidona's warm laugh in response made Alistair's grin widen further. He watched as she intertwined her arm with Malinda's. "Come, I will show you where you will be staying, and I would certainly appreciate any help you could be with the kitchen staff and the housekeeping staff. I haven't a matron of the house and I have a feeling that you would be perfect for the position," she said. They moved away from the men folk, surrounded by the couple's five awestruck children. Alistair could hear Sidona talking to Malinda faintly about her pregnancy.

"Sorry about that," Alec stepped up next to him and watched his wife and the Commander disappear into the castle, his youngest child clutching at her mother's skirts.

Alistair clapped him on the back. "No need to apologize. You're an extremely lucky man. You're wife seems like a lovely woman and...Maker's breath man! You have you're own little army!"

Alec responded with a foolish grin. "Aye, we got married young, Malinda and me. Couldn't keep our hands to ourselves. In fact, she was three cycles pregnant when we took marriage vows. Sometimes it seems like she's been pregnant fer our whole marriage. I don't mind it though. She's beautiful like that," he said, his face lit up with pride.

Alistair felt a twist in his heart. "I hope you hadn't planned on anymore after this next one."

Alec shook his head. "'Planned' ain't the word for it, mate. Either it happens, or it doesn't, yeah?"

Alistair sighed, "Becoming a Grey Warden makes it...more difficult."

Alec's face screwed up in confusion for a moment and then his eyebrows flew up into his hairline. "Oh. Well, the missus will be happy about that. I might love her pregnant, but she gets awful tired of it. Six is probably enough, anyway."

"Probably," Alistair said with a faint smile. "Like I said, you're very lucky. It's hard for Grey Wardens to have children with a non-Warden and nearly impossible for two Grey Wardens..." Alistair trailed off with a note of sadness.

This time it was Alec that clapped Alistair on the back. "Well, you ever get the urge to change nappies, boyo, I'm sure the missus would be more than happy to lend you one of ours."

"Er...thanks?" Alistair replied, not knowing whether to be honored or slightly horrified.

Alec only laughed at the expression on his face. "So, _Mentor_. When are ya going to teach me sword-play? I know a fair bit about archery, but if it came to blows up close I'd be better with my hands than a blade," he admitted.

Alistair gave the man an assessing look. "You don't have the build for sword and shield. I think you'd be better with dual weapons, actually. Which means you'll have to train with Zevran. He's a master duelist and an ex-crow," Alistair said, motioning for Alec to follow him.

* * *

Unfortunately, Zevran didn't seem to be locatable anywhere in the Vigil. Which meant that he didn't want to be found. Alistair could only hope that the Antivan was staying out of trouble. So, instead Alistair took Alec to the Vigil Library where he started teaching the man Grey Warden history, or what he knew of it anyway. It was all stuff that Alistair had found terribly fascinating when he first joined the Wardens, but after only an hour into his lecture he noticed that Alec glanced towards the door when he thought that Alistair wasn't paying attention. Alistair had found it amusing at first because most people made the mistake of assuming that he wasn't very observant, which, wasn't true. He hoped that after the eighth time he'd cleared his throat Alec would have caught onto that fact. However, after Alec's third glance at the door, Alistair pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand and made a weary shooing gesture with the other. "I think that's enough for now," he told Alec with a heavy sigh. "Go and make sure your wife and children are settled in."

Alec's face lit up. "Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!"

Alistair watched as Alec scurried out of the room as if his backside were on fire, and sighed. He started putting away the books he'd gotten out for Alec to study only to be interrupted by a soft knock. He looked up and grinned broadly when he saw his lover standing in the doorway. "Excuse me," she smiled. "Have you by any chance seen the man I love?" she asked impishly.

Alistair raised an eyebrow, "I don't know, madam. Could you describe him?"

She sashayed into the room moving with grace towards him and he admired the way the light green dress she was wearing accentuated her form and set off her hair. "He is about your height, hazel colored eyes, a strong jaw and chin, ruggedly handsome, dark blonde hair, humorous...oh, and he has a most unholy fondness for fine cheese," she stopped mere inches in front of him, her dark brown eyes glittering up at him mischievously.

"Aha! You must mean Anders, if you hold on a moment I can go find him for you," he said and then winced slightly when she slapped him on the chest. "Oh, you mean me?" he asked laughingly, then he pulled her against him and kissed her soundly.

"That is much better," Sidona hummed appreciatively when he pulled away. "You are terrible," she accused with a smile.

"Nefarious even!" he said giving her his best evil laugh, which failed midway through and came out as more of a coughing fit.

Sidona laughed at him. "I think that needs a little work, _mon cher_."

Alistair sat down in a nearby chair and then pulled her onto his lap. "So, what have you been up to? Malinda and the children settling in alright?"

Sidona pouted prettily. "I do not know whether to feel well cared for or incredibly self conscious. She told me I was nothing but skin and bones at least three times."

Alistair chuckled. "Well, if it's any consolation, I happen to think you're quite beautiful," he kissed the tip of her nose.

"Ew! You know, I just realized what's been bothering me about the two of you," Ander's voice cut in.

Alistair groaned and leaned his forehead against Sidona's shoulder, which shook slightly as she laughed. "What's that, Anders?" he ground out, irritated at having been interrupted yet again by the troublesome Mage.

"Its like watching your parents get all mushy with each other. It's disgusting!" Anders scrunched up his face, making Sidona laugh harder.

"Well, then stop interrupting!" Alistair growled.

Sidona laughed and extricated herself from Alistair's lap. "I shall see you later," she kissed him lightly on the brow and then turned towards Anders. "Alright, Anders. Let us go look at the healing supplies."

"After you fearless leader!" Anders saluted and when she exited the room he turned to Alistair with a grin. "Two words: Spicy. Shimmy," he waggled his eyebrows at the ex-Templar.

"Two more words; Holy Smite," Alistair replied tersely.

"Ah. Good point," Anders said and then left Alistair to finish picking up the books he'd gotten out.

* * *

It was later after the evening meal that the preparations for Alec's joining had been complete. Alec was

allowed a few moments with his wife before he was called into the throne room. Varel stood at the center of it all, Sidona at his left and Alistair at his right. Though Varel was not a Warden himself, his many accomplishments and his position at the Vigil had earned him the right to certain Warden secrets. The joining being one of them.

Alistair hated attending Joinings. He spent a lot of his life saving people from the taint, somehow, subjecting them to it just seemed wrong. But that was one of the sacrifices made as a Grey Warden. At least Alec wasn't joining during a Blight.

"Step forth, Alec," Varel intoned and the speech that Alistair had heard from Duncan spilled forth from the middle aged Seneschal's lips. And then Sidona stepped forward.

"Join us, Brothers and Sisters," her rich voice rang out strongly. "Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant," her gaze fell to the floor. "And should you perish, know that one day, we shall join you."

"From this day forward, Alec. You are a Grey Warden," Varel said and handed the pale sheepherder the joining chalice.

Alec took it, his hands shaking. For one horrific moment, Alistair thought he would drop the cup. But instead the man looked up, first at Alistair and then to Sidona.

Sidona gave the man a nod, indicating that he should drink. Alistair noted the way her hand dropped to the hilt of her sword. Alec, thank the Maker, failed to notice. Instead he took a fortifying breath and said, "Well, here goes nothin'," and then took a big gulp of the vile concoction. He sputtered and coughed, then swayed on his feet. Thankfully, Varel took the chalice from his grasp just before Alec's eyes clouded over white and he fell backwards.

"Oh, well...that's a good sign," Alistair said. "He fell backwards."

Sidona shot a glare at him. "Now is not a good time for jokes, Alistair."

"I know. It's just... _usually_ when it goes badly they fall forwards," he explained, even as Varel knelt at Alec's side.

Varel turned to Sidona with both relief and amusement. "He's right, Alec _will_ live, Commander."

Alistair gestured in an 'I told you so' manner.

Sidona in turn rolled her eyes skywards. "Let Malinda in, then. Please make sure she knows that his unconsciousness is normal before she sees him, Varel. I would hate for her to think we've done something terrible to him."

"Or you'd never hear the end of it," Alistair voiced her unspoken thought.

"Yes, Commander," Varel replied and left to go collect Alec's wife.

It wasn't long before Malinda came bursting into the room. She waddled over to the prone Alec and then looked up at Sidona, "Is he alright?" she asked fretfully.

Sidona nodded. "He'll wake up in a moment. I'd say you could sit beside him until he wakes up, but the floor is too hard and too cold for you, in your condition," she warned.

Malinda nodded and fidgeted nervously as she stood next to her husbands body. Moments later he groaned and he opened his eyes. "If you be a desire demon, I'll warn ya now, I'm a married man and my Malinda's got no qualms about crossin' the veil to kick yer unholy arse!" he grumbled up at Malinda, making everyone laugh.

Malinda stuffed her hands on her hips. "Maker's mercy!" Malinda scowled. "I _will_ be kicking _your_ arse if'n yeh don't get up off yer duff right now!"

Alec picked himself up off the floor and wobbled a bit, his hands going up to his head. "I take that back, ya must be my wife. Only she'd expect me to get up from a perfectly comfortable floor when I feel like the Archdemon's been dancing the marigold on my head!"

Alistair bit back a laugh. "Come on, it's not _that_ bad."

Alec shot Alistair an accusatory glare. "I think I'd rather be kicked by a mule than ever drink that swill again!"

Alistair did chuckle at that, then his face turned serious, "Did you have dreams? I had terrible dreams after my joining."

Alec paled, "I did. There was talking dark spawn, but not like any dark spawn I ever seen. And I have seen one or two tear into my flock. This one looked more like a man, but _not_ like a man, you understand? I saw him in a great cavern, parts of it were filled with molten rock... looked like the deep roads if you ask me."

Alistair and Sidona exchanged a glance, "Tomorrow, when you are feeling up to it, I would like to discuss what you saw," Sidona said.

"Aye, Commander," Alec replied and then yawned.

"Is it alright if I bring him back to our rooms, ma'am?" Malinda asked.

"Yes," Sidona said with a soft smile. "Varel will help you get him back to his room. Sleep well, the both of you. And Alec?" she called before they turned away.

"Commander?" he responded.

"I'm glad you made it. Welcome to your new life," she said kindly.

He smiled and nodded, then wrapped an arm around his wife's shoulders, letting her and Varel lead him out of the throne room.

"Well," Alistair said as soon as the door shut behind them. "That certainly doesn't ominous at all, does it?"

Sidona hummed in agreement. "We must go to Old Stark's farm in the morning. Then I will check with Sergeant Maverlies about the rubble below the Vigil. If you recall Master Voldrik seemed to think that there is an entrance to the Deep Roads right below us, yes?"

Alistair nodded. "It kind of makes you wonder if Queen Anora knew about the entrance before she bequeathed the Arling to Wardens, doesn't it?" he asked with a grimace.

Sidona's eyebrows flew upwards, "That is a very serious accusation, Alistair. Do you really believe that Anora would be so malicious as to give us a Keep with a Deep Roads entrance, and not inform us?"

"It makes sense, doesn't it? We get everything under control and then she conveniently sweeps in to assess the damage? She wasn't happy to see that I was here, I know that much," he folded his arms and scowled down at the floor.

"Do not make that face, darling," Sidona admonished gently. "You'll wrinkle."

Alistair's scowl melted and he looked up at her with amusement. "Fereldan's like wrinkles. Mabari's have tons of them."

She laughed softly at him, then she sighed heavily. "All we have is suspicion. But suspicion enough for me to write a warning letter to the First Warden. Which I will do before we retire for the night. I am certain that he will be unhappy to hear that the gift of the Arling may, in fact, have been a trap to rid Ferelden of the Grey Wardens altogether."

"Yes, I would think he'd be a bit put out," Alistair teased.

Sidona stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his mid-section, "Are you free for the night?"

He nodded. "Yes...you?" he asked and also wrapped his arms around her.

She nodded as well. "Yes, all my duties are completed for the day..." she trailed off, looking up into his face with a broad grin.

"Is that an invitation?" he chuckled.

She slid her hands up his chest and then up over the his shoulders and around his neck, pulling him downwards. "Do you still need an invitation?" she replied, then kissed him teasingly. Moments later she squeaked in surprise when Alistair pulled away with a growl and threw her over his shoulder.

"Alistair, put me down!" she laughed.

"Let me think...mmm, no," he replied and carried her out of the throne room. He was most of the way up the stairs to the family wing when he started to get a bit tired. When he got to the hallway he paused to catch his breath. "Maker's breath! Next time you get to carry _me_ to bed," he grunted out.

"I distinctly remember telling you to put me down earlier," she pointed out.

"I don't think you weighed this much the last time-, ouch!" he rubbed the back of his head where she'd slapped him.

"That is for implying that I am fat," she said smugly and then yelped when Alistair's hand connected with her bottom.

"_That_ is for being a saucy minx," he retorted cheekily.

Sidona opened her mouth to say something scathing when a nearby door was flung open and Nathaniel stepped out into the corridor in nothing but his trousers. He regarded them with a lifted brow. "Dare I ask?" he asked.

Sidona and Alistair exchanged looks. "No," they both replied.

"Nathaniel, what is going on out there?" an unmistakable Antivan voice called from within Nathaniel's room.

Alistair's jaw dropped and Sidona giggled. Nathaniel reddened in embarrassment and then glared at Alistair. "Not. One. Word," he warned.

Alistair closed his mouth and Nathaniel hastily bid them both a goodnight, shutting his door behind him.

"What just happened?" Alistair asked.

"It seems that we are not the only lovebirds in the Vigil, no?" Sidona replied with a soft chuckle then she reached down and swatted him on the backside. "Get me to my room!" she ordered.

* * *

**A/N: I'm sorry that this took so long, and is perhaps, grammatically incorrect. For those of you that want to know what really happened in Nathaniel's room, go to the one shot entitled, "Rogue".**


End file.
